Din's Blessing
by eolianstar
Summary: The Gerudo have a terrible secret.
1. Aru

_It was said that out of the desert, Din created the Gerudo._

_"I shall give them my power," she said, "I will fashion them with a warrior's spirit. They shall be the fiercest people of all Hyrule, and they will be strong. I shall grant them skill with the bow and sword, I shall give them craftiness and wit, and I shall give them pride and freedom."_

_So it was to be... but Nayru, in all her wisdom placed a hand upon her compatriot's arm and said;_

_"Wait – for I too will grant them something. If they were to have all that you give them, they would embark upon conquests and spill the blood of all who dwell Hyrule," said Nayru softly, for she loved her children and her creation. Stretching out her hand to the desert, she made this proclamation._

_"To balance their strength, I declare this; only once in a century will a man be born into this race." As it was done, Din's anger flared against Nayru._

_"Would you destroy this people?"_

_"They will not die out," the wise deity replied, "for this one man shall live longer than any man of any race, and he will not die before he has a son. He will possess the power of his people, he will be the King of his kind, and he will father his nation."_

_And so, Din agreed._

_**Din's Blessing**_

by eolianstar

Zelda: Ocarina of Time © Nintendo

Rated for suggested themes

Before Hyrule was saved by the green-clad hero of legend, it was recorded that dark clouds loomed over the land. It was written that this darkness, this great and terrible destruction, was spawned by the Evil King of the Desert Lands, an ugly and twisted man history would forever remember as Ganondorf.

However, no record will say that in his youth, before the black arts deformed him, he was a ruddy and handsome young man befitting the image of a king. He was strong and courageous, and his people revered him as much as they would a god.

And because he was the sole male child born to a race of women in a century, he was, in a sense, a savior to his people. For if the Gerudo were to live, they were to cherish him and bear him children. Thus, the race of warriors was then reduced to a large harem.

But that was the secret of the Gerudo, and they thought to take pride in it.

In those days, a girl would wait upon the quiet hill, overlooking the still desert. She would comb her long crimson hair with her fingers and observe the proud fortress. She would watch the fat golden disk slide slowly along the oily scarlet sky and feel the wind, thick with dust, blow against her bronze skin. And then, she would spy the young king below, his painted burlap cloak flying gently in the desert winds.

And she would despise him in her heart.

_P a r t . o n e : Aru_

Aru slipped silently into the chamber as she bound up her hair again. She could hear Meela and Tamar laughing. Kisha and Loa sat nearby, one sharpening her spear while the other listened to the hearsay intently. The light from the fire glowed against their tanned skin, shone brightly against their red hair.

"Tonight he will see Yori," Meela remarked, leaning against the table with her hands on the wooden surface. "Poor foolish girl. She's been following all of those old superstitions for conceiving a boy."

"How old is our King? Not yet twenty-five?" Kisha speculated as she tested the sharp end of her weapon with her thumb. "We shall all be dead by the time the next King is born."

Sheathing her blade in a leather scabbard, Aru listened somewhat distractedly. She noticed how large Tamar's belly had grown and how much cheerier (and condescending) Meela had become since her night. All the while, Aru was frowning deeply as an unpleasant feeling overcame her. It was a nauseating feeling that made her feel sick.

"Regardless, Yori is so attached to him. She would love nothing other than to become his favorite by bearing him a son."

"That's the only thing that could ever earn his attention. Pitiful girl, he hardly even looks at her."

Aru could hardly bear it anymore.

"Can we not converse about something else?" Aru said angrily.

All four women looked at her strangely. Out of them all, Aru was the youngest and perhaps the most plain. But she was also the strongest. She could shoot the straightest arrow and was the deadliest in combat. Perhaps this was why she was the only one who could remember the true heart of the Gerudo people.

Still standing, Aru looked back at her friends with her infamous stare.

"Do you not remember how things were like? We swore to be the best thieves, the must cunning warriors, the fastest riders of all Hyrule, but now, you all laze about in your daydreams and worthless fantasies!"

"Oh, Aru," Kisha said, not bothering to match her gaze. "Don't attempt to fool us. I see you every night on the hill, watching for when the King enters the fortress from the raids."

Aru was taken a back at this, and she stepped back slightly.

"What?"

"You are attracted to him as much as we all are, that's all." As Meela haughtily said this, Aru could feel that same awful feeling turning her stomach.

_How wrong you are._

"You just don't know," Tamar said, a bit more kindly than the other two. "Your night will come too, Aru, and then you'll understand how exciting it all is."

"No," Aru growled, very much appalled by the idea. "It is merely a subject matter for gossip. And does it not seem wrong? That all of you are seeing the same man? Our half-brother?"

A row of shadows flickered against the wall. They turned and saw their King and the other raiders behind him as he impressively strode past their chamber. His painted cloak spread out behind him, his black armor glistening like obsidian. Upon his brow, the amber stone set into the circlet caught the torchlight and brightened like an ephemeral flame.

For a moment, Aru felt his gaze pass over them, catching her eye in that infinitesimal moment. Instead of averting her gaze like most did, she defiantly lifted her chin as he walked past. A flicker lit up his eyes, and then vanished.

When he was gone, she turned to look back at her companions, who were still watching him, gazing at his back as he proceeded to the next hall.

Disgusted, she turned her own back and left.

_.e n d . o f . p a r t . o n e_

_Hello dear readers (: I really never thought that this fanfic would be the one to debut this account, but considering that I don't have anything else, I suppose it shall do. As you probably have noticed, this work will have quite a bit of suggestive connotations, but let me assure you that this is not the focus of the story. Nothing in this will ever go above PG-13 level -- ever. Perceptive readers can take this as a satire of modern society, and readers who might be offended by any possible deeper meaning can just take this as a story (:  
_

_This should be a rather short story as well, though I'm unsure as to how many chapters there will be. The next installment will come up depending on the response I get._

_Thanks for reading (:_


	2. Farah

_**Din's Blessing**_

by eolianstar

Zelda: Ocarina of Time © Nintendo

Rated for suggested themes

_P a r t . t w o : Farah_

The day was drier and more windy than it often was. It was one of those gray desert days when the sunlight must filter through the layers of airborne dust.

Aru rose a little later than usual since she was not assigned to patrol that day. Most the other girls had already awoken and left. Someone had covered the window, and Aru could hear the wind battering against the cloth.

She disdained the idea of staying inside all day, so after a few minutes, she decided to go to the horse archery range, knowing that sometimes it was sheltered by the cliffs. Before she left the room, she covered her nose and mouth with a purple cloth and picked up her saber.

The discourse she had with her friends the night before still rang in her ears. They could never understand her, and the reason for which she despised their beloved King. And yet, she knew there was a scrap of truth in their words. Perhaps it really was the doom of the Gerudo people, and hers, to idolize that man.

But the more she thought of it, the more angry she became.

When she walked through the halls, she realized that the Thieves had not left that morning, most likely due to the unfavorable weather conditions. They lounged in the public areas of the fortress, verbosely conversing and yelling at one another.

The Gerudo Thieves were warriors of great skill with privileges. Those that were the swiftest, the best shot and the most cunning were given the prerogative of riding with the King daily to raid the nearby provinces. They supplied nearly all resources that came into the fortress; they were the life of the Gerudo.

Instead of the customary violet uniform of the common Gerudo patrol, most of the raiders wore scarlet, while the highest in rank donned other colors. Inala, the fourth-in-command, sat near the window, pointing at one of the other raiders as she loudly said something. She wore Prussian blue and had a sapphire set on her forehead. Zahina, the third-in-command, was dressed in green and stood among the group, her arms crossed, surveying all those who were under her.

And the second-in-command... Aru glanced again throughout the lounge. She could not find her there.

When she got outside, she had to press the cloth against her face so that the wind did not flip it up and splash the dust into her face. The coarse grains grazed her skin as she made her way through the veil, up the slope.

As she entered the archery range, she realized that the wind and sand was not any better than it was in the exposed areas. She began to turn around again, but the sound of horses caught her ears. Frowning, she thought that Lazuli, the horse archer, had left the horses unsheltered and out in the storm.

She could faintly make out the shape of the horses. When she reached them, she noticed that they were still saddled and wore the bit and bridle. Scowling at Lazuli's irresponsibility, Aru took one of the horses by the rein and began to move as if to lead it away.

But then, she realized that the horse was black. It was the King's horse.

At that moment, she heard voices, and a momentary flash of panic jolted her mind. She had not realized how close they were.

Kneeling so that she was mostly obscured by the black stallion's frame, she looked beneath the horse's underside, shielding her eyes from the sand.

Farah, the second-in-command, stood in the storm. Her pale white clothing was a striking contrast to the olive bronze of her skin and the obsidian black of those armored arms around her.

They were speaking quietly to each other, words that were lost in the wind and sand. He pressed his lips against the smooth skin on the back of her neck as he whispered things into her ear. She placed her arms upon his, her gold-painted eyes low.

Farah was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful of Gerudo warriors. She was tall and well-built, and yet lithe and slender. The rings on her finger and the sparkling ruby set upon her forehead were the testament of her skill as a warrior as well. These were the things that earned her the rank of second-in-command.

The relation she had with the King was hardly secret. After all, it was the King who appointed his officers. It was natural that his most favored maiden would have the best place.

And Aru could not help but feel a mixed twinge of jealousy and disdain for second-in-command. Naturally, it was her greatest desire to have the rank that Farah did, to have that glory and pride. But when the younger warrior looked upon the way Farah captured so much of the King's attention, she could not help but feel hatred.

Or... was that the jealousy?

_Nonsense_, Aru told herself. _I've had enough._

Slowly releasing her hold on the reins, Aru backed into the swirling curtain of sand.

But before she disappeared, she noticed that the King was looking straight at her, his eyes penetrating her gaze.

_e n d . o f . p a r t . t w o_

_Hello again! Sorry of these chapters seem really short D: My time has been eaten by other writing and art projects too, but I'll do my best to get a consistent schedule. The next chapter should be more interesting. I hope._

_Thank you to all who reviewed (: There was some concern as to the Mary Sue-ish-ness of Aru. I agree that as of now, she's a delicate balance, but rest assured that she won't overstep the boundary. Her skill in combat is only unmatched in her small circle of friends, not the Gerudo population – as will be exemplified in a later chapter. We'll also see later on that her prowess as a fighter fuels her one of her greatest flaws. _

_So hopefully no Mary Sues from me. But please! Do let me know if I ever cross the boundary. I find the Mary Sue archetype as dull as the next reader. Flawed characters are so much more interesting, don't you think? (:_

_Thanks for reading!_


	3. Nabooru

_**Din's Blessing**_

by eolianstar

Zelda: Ocarina of Time © Nintendo

Rated for suggestive themes

_P a r t . T h r e e : Nabooru_

Several months had passed since the sandstorm season. Aru went to go see Loa after the deep clamoring of the noonday bell. Unlike the others, Loa was not a warrior, she was an artisan. While the warfare and thievery of the gerudo was the prominent element of the race, the culture was supported by the secret activities of the non-combatants.

There were those who forged the weaponry, designed the cloth, nurtured the young. Often they were gerudo who were frail or did not have natural talent with a blade. Vastly looked down upon by the others, they led a secluded life deep within the fortress. Those who were with child also stayed in these areas until their time of vulnerability passed.

When she arrived at Loa's quarters, Loa was placing a scimitar on a rack on the wall. Her hair was short, cut straight at the line of her chin. There was a young girl sitting in the corner with her back toward them, rubbing her arm.

Aru greeted the artisan and unsheathed her saber, exposing the chipped side.

"Here it is – the blade's worn," she said, and traced the edge with a finger. Loa took it silently and raised it to look at it more closely. She was solemn in nature, and possibly the most mature in their circle of friends.

"It's better that you get a new one," Loa said after a while. "Despite how well you've kept it, it's still an old blade."

"I see."

The girl in the corner stirred, and Aru looked over at her. Loa returned the saber to Aru before addressing the child.

"Stand up, Nabooru, and turn around." The girl did so. "You may go now."

Nabooru gave a cocky smile and hurriedly exited the room. Aru looked questioningly to Loa, who spoke while looking through the racks.

"We have been having to discipline her more frequently these days."

"For doing what?"

"Minor mischief – fighting with the other girls, stealing things. Would you prefer a blade of the same length?"

"A longer one would be fine." Loa picked out a sheathed blade and held it out to her friend. Aru placed her old saber on the table and pulled the full length of the new one out of the sheathe. It was heavier than her old one – but she could get accustomed to it. "Yes, this is good."

Loa moved as if to take the old saber – usually she could melt and reuse the metal for her other crafts. But Aru stopped her, without really thinking.

"Aah – is it all right if I keep it?" Aru asked, more sheepishly than she would have liked. Loa looked at her curiously and took back her hand.

"If you want."

Fully embarrassed now, Aru gave a slight nod and left Loa's workplace. It would have been much easier to let the artisan just keep the old thing – but for some reason, she felt some sort of attachment to it. As she walked down the corridor, she changed her train of thought and began to go through her duties for that day. This was promptly interrupted when she nearly collided into Nabooru around the corner.

"It's the King," she said almost unhappily and slipped behind Aru. The older girl was surprised, and by the time her mind registered Nabooru's words, she was looking directly at the man himself.

She had never been so close to him before. It took all her willpower not to gasp. Those powerful, bright eyes... they stood out so intensely against his dark nut-brown skin. Though the rest of her body was frozen, her hands, for whatever reason, instinctively tightened against the scabbard in her grasp.

And the thoughts and her seemingly irrational hatred for this man sprung up instantly. When she thought of how much her friends worshiped him and how many of their children he had fathered, it made her skin crawl.

"You insolent girl!" One of the gerudo thieves escorting the King came up behind him, her face still veiled. "You are to address your sovereign!"

Aru coolly ignored the woman as if she had not heard. The latter moved to draw her weapon, but the King raised his arm across her and stopped her.

"No, let her be," he said with a charismatic smile on that beautiful face. And without saying anything else, he stepped past her and went along his way. His escort shot a glare at Aru, but followed obediently. Aru hardly even moved, even after they were long gone.

For some reason, even when they were long gone, she felt as though he was still watching her with that golden gaze. Gods!

"You hate him, don't you?"

This managed to startle her. She finally turned and looked down at Nabooru, who was stretching her arms behind her head. Now that Aru could study her, she realized that the girl was actually very beautiful. She had large eyes and her nose carried that characteristically gerudo aquiline shape.

And she was impressed by the girl's apparent perception.

"What makes you think that?" Aru asked, genuinely curious. The girl shrugged and sidestepped the question.

"It's all right. I don't like him either," she replied, crossing her arms. Though thoroughly perplexed and amused, Aru betrayed nothing with her expression.

"Oh? Why may that be?"

The girl merely shrugged again. And then without saying anything else, she took off down the corridor and vanished behind the corner.

_e n d . o f . p a r t . t h r e e_

_Sorrysorrysorry for the huge delay. I had a bit of a block and was distracted by other things _; Anyhoo, I've finally thought through the rest of the story. If things go as planned, there will be ten chapters by the time I'm finished._

_I'm going to attempt to update once a month. Since these chapters are shorter than the chapters I used to write, it should be really easy, but since I'm still in school, it might prove to be more difficult. Maybe I'll even update more than once a month? At any rate, I'm not going to make a set deadline because I can't promise anything. But thanks for reading! I really appreciate it (:_


	4. Jannu

_**Din's Blessing**_

by eolianstar

Zelda: Ocarina of Time © Nintendo

Rated for suggestive themes

_P a r t . F o u r : Jannu_

The desert nights were so cold. Whereas during the day, the wind was a friend who brought respite, during the night it was a thief who stole warmth away. As the nights became longer, they also became colder and more unbearable.

_I hate this,_ Aru complained fiercely in her head, gritting her teeth to keep them from chattering. _I can't wait to move up the ranks and be taken out of the night watch shifts._

The fortress was silent. Only the orange light flickering from the torches moved. There were supposed to be two other girls on duty, but Aru suspected that they were neglecting their shift, sleeping in their warm beds. She envied them. Yet she would not risk being caught and held responsible for dereliction if something were to go wrong. With her ambitions, there was too much to lose.

It was going to be a long night. She could already feel it.

She sat down on the roof with her legs folded up to her chest. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, but her right hand held the shaft to a bladed staff. Then she tried to keep her mind off the bitter cold by thinking.

_I wonder how Tamar is_, she thought, lowering her head into the hollow of her arms._._ Earlier that morning, she had heard that her friend was in labor. A strange feeling came over her, and surprisingly it did not come in the form of hatred toward the King. Rather, as she thought about it, she found that she could not understand the concept of motherhood. She had not known her own mother – rather, she was raised by the lesser gerudo like all the children. To be responsible for someone else's life for those long months... it was something she never expected to understand.

These thoughts were immediately interrupted when she heard the sound of the gate toward the Haunted Wasteland creaking. The chains groaned against the wind's howling as the gate slowly opened. In an instant, she was on her feet.

"What!"

She squinted down the buildings and hesitated a moment before reacting. Jumping down from the building's top level, she continued from rooftop to rooftop until she was on the ground. By this time the gate was fully open, exposing the way to the desert beyond. There was a huddled figure before it, wrapped in the burlap gerudo cloth, stepping outside the fortress.

With a sharp frown Aru addressed the figure, making her way towards it.

"Hey!" she shouted as she came up, and placed her hand on the person's shoulder. "Hey!"

She was greatly taken aback when the face beneath the hood was that of a frail old woman's. Her once scarlet hair was fading to a pale orange, and her face was freckled with age. Her eyes were proud. Aru recalled seeing her around the fortress a few times, but she never knew her name.

When Aru recovered from her surprise, she berated her.

"You can't come out here, old woman," Aru said, though not quite rudely. "It's not safe."

The woman had no expression on her face. But she raised a finger to her lips and silenced the girl. Without knowing why, Aru obeyed. Then, the old woman pointed toward the cliffs that shielded the fortress and archery gallery. Aru turned and looked up.

She could see movement in the darkness, and a few seconds later, two figures flew upward and away from the fortress. By the time they were gone, Aru realized what they had been.

"The Twins!" she whispered. It was the second time in her life she had seen the Twinrova witches, despite their old age. Rumors said that since the birth of the gerudo, the twins had been watching over the kings of the past. Certainly presently, they were his most trusted allies, even more so than Farah. However, most of the time they were tinkering with the Spirit Temple far off in the unreachable colossus across the Haunted Wasteland.

Aru's attention was momentarily drawn back to the old woman as she pointed again toward the cliff. She narrowed her eyes and searched the sky, and could make out the faint shadows descending.

But all she could see were the birds. They often came out, Aru always saw them flocking over the fortress and cliffs. She continued to search the landscape, wondering what the woman was pointing to. She was surprised again when the woman placed her soft hand on her bare shoulder.

"Come with me." She had a surprisingly firm voice.

"What–" Aru began, but without waiting for a response, the woman released her hold on Aru's shoulder and continued along slowly toward the open gate. The girl groaned and exhaled deeply before following after.

"We aren't permitted to leave the fortress grounds without permission," she tried again, undaunted by the woman's stubbornness. By now, she had forgotten about the cold. As they passed under the gate, she spared a quick thought as to wonder how the old woman was able to force the portcullis to open the large iron blockade. The woman did not say anything, but plunged without hesitation into the howling storm of the Haunted Wasteland.

Aru did hesitate, however, and covered her face with an arm while squinting her eyes at the figure moving against the sand. She leaned against the watchtower and gave a resigned sigh.

Well. She estimated that it'd only be a matter of seconds before the woman returned to the fortress, confused and thrown off course by the shapeless, restless desert. Nobody could navigate through the desert by skill or instinct alone.

So when she waited there for a few minutes, she started to get a little anxious. When enough time passed for her to be concerned, she sighed again, looking into the deep, thick veil of sand. Then, pressing her veil close to her face with her hand, she stepped almost timidly into the desert.

It was said that certain people were able to reach the Desert Colossus with guidance. From who or what, Aru did not know, but as she grit her teeth and forced herself through the icy, biting cold of the desert, she wished that such guidance would make itself known to her.

Needless to say, when she found herself looking up at the gates of the Gerudo Fortress in front of her, she was quite dismayed. She was more so when most unexpectedly, that velvety hand grasped her by the shoulder. She threw a look over her shoulder just in time to see the woman beckoning her to follow before moving once again out into the desert..

"Don't fall so far behind," the voice said, "I don't want to have to come back again just because you've gotten lost."

"W-wait!" Aru caught herself shouting, and stumbled most ungracefully after the old lady. When she caught up to her and was walking beside her, she narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to say something. But she noticed how intently the old woman was looking in front of her. So she too looked ahead, trying to trace the line of the woman's gaze, wondering what it was that she saw. Was it the same thing as the cliffs?

"He's right there, holding a lantern for us," the old woman said, her mysterious golden eyes hidden partly by the folds of her wrinkled skin. She lifted a hand and pointed listlessly in front of them. Aru scrutinized the space before them, but saw nothing.

"Where are you going?" Aru asked, trying to ignore her strange behavior.

"We are going to the Spirit Temple to pray." This was so surprising to Aru that she stopped walking.

"Why?" The girl asked instinctively. The old woman too, stopped, and turned her head slightly, though not enough for Aru to be able to see her face.

"....Come along now."

As the old woman continued on, Aru scowled, unhappy that she was not given an answer. Yet, she obediently followed, her curiosity inevitably getting the better of her.

- - -

It was warm inside – Aru was surprised at the warmth. The twin cobras on either side of the staircase each bore delicately engraved plaques and the torches gave off a pallid glow that was hauntingly inviting. As the old woman wandered more deeply inside, Aru followed behind, staring at anything and everything, wildly excited. She asked questions without holding back, but the woman rarely answered.

Eventually they stepped into a chamber that was larger than the others. With amazement Aru glanced up at the magnificent statue chiseled into the stone, gaping at the majestic woman with her palms eternally stretched outward. Unlike the woman towering above the Desert Colossus at the temple entrance, this goddess was completely intact, uneroded by the wind and sand.

Aru redirected her attention back to the old woman when she smelled incense. The old woman held a large, circular bronze dish, the incense rising in a thin ribbon of vapor. She lifted it up toward the goddess.

"Great creator of the earth, most reverend Din, hear our prayers," the woman said quietly, but the room amplified every word. "Gracious Din, accept the soul of another child into your hands. Forgive us."

As if in response, the goddess' headdress caught the light of a flickering torch and glinted very momentarily. After a few seconds of short prayer, the woman knelt to the ground and set down the dish, uncovering her head.

Awkwardly Aru also sat and mumbled a blessing for the goddess. Some time passed before either said another word. When the old woman spoke, she did so without looking at the young girl.

"Were you a friend of the child's mother?"

Taken aback, Aru stared at the woman's back.

"Excuse me?"

"The girl who gave birth today."

"You mean Tamar?" the girl responded, her eyes narrowed. Then, recalling the woman's previous prayer, she looked confused, her eyes distant as she tried to register the words. "You mean.... her daughter died? ...What about Tamar?"

"She is fine," the woman said.

"Oh." Aru wasn't quite sure what to say after that. She should not have been surprised. The infant mortality rate of the gerudos was high and it was likely that the child would not have lived. But she felt strange as she heard the news, it was almost an uncomfortable feeling. Even in the warmth of the temple, Aru felt a shudder.

"She is fine," the woman repeated. "You must comfort her – it is such a pain to lose a child."

Aru drew her legs close to her chest and rested her arms on them.

"...Were you ever a mother, old woman?" she asked quietly. Her elderly companion sighed a long sigh and looked up at the temple.

"Long, long ago... I was not unlike your friend." Aru closed her eyes, trying to sort through what she was feeling.

"Why have you brought me here?"

"I've seen you, on the cliffside before sunset. I've seen the hatred in your eyes and have heard the anger of your words. You are proud to be of the gerudo people, and yet ashamed."

"It's all because of that man," Aru said, disgusted. She returned so easily to her usual self. "The proud gerudo race must bend its knee and throw itself blindly to the desires and lust of that one man. It's despicable."

"Is that why you hate him?" Aru looked up curiously. There was some sort of implication inflected in the woman's voice.

"Do you hate him?"

There was a pause. The woman slowly got to her feet.

"I could not. He is both fortunate and accursed. It was by fate's mere caprice that he was chosen."

"Chosen?"

"Come, let us leave," the woman touched Aru's shoulder and started off again. Aru scowled and placed a hand on a knee to hoist herself up. She closed her eyes, her voice reclaiming its usual condescension.

"What is your name, old woman?" And for once, she gave a clear answer.

"Jannu."

_e n d . o f . p a r t . F o u r_


	5. Ganondorf

_The man placed his hand, his leathery, weather and sand beaten hands on the boy's head of curling crimson. He watched the child sleep peacefully against him, and he wondered how it was that such a gentle little creature could have such a troubling burden upon him._

_She was siting in the doorframe, looking out into the expanse of the desert. Her figure was so lonely and far away, though she sat only a little distance away from him. She was calm, like the boy was calm. But bitterness was deeply engraved in her heart, whereas love boundlessly filled his. _

_"He must go back, if you do not," he called to her. She did not answer. "It is his destiny. The time is coming soon."_

_"Do not talk of destiny to me," she replied coldly, not even turning to look at him. The man stroked the boy's hair, gently brushed his rough fingers against the child's ears and cheek, his own nut-brown hands so dry and faded compared to the young, dark bronze skin. He thought about the boy's golden, eagle-like eyes, how much those shining irises reminded him of the rising autumn moon above the desert. The weight of that gaze, like the unyielding heat of the desert, consistent, intense. _

_"Truly he has Din's blessing upon him," he said quietly. She still did not look at him._

_"Din is dead." _

_**Din's Blessing**_

by eolianstar

Zelda: Ocarina of Time © Nintendo

Rated for suggestive themes

_P a r t . F i v e : Ganondorf_

She dreamed that he was standing there. A young man in white linen, standing, looking up toward the fortress walls. Something about him seemed so familiar. She could only see his back, but she knew he was beautiful, and she knew that he, like her, was a victim. As she looked upon his figure, she felt a mixture of sadness and adoration.

She stood between this figure and him. She could not see him at all, but she knew he was standing behind her. Perhaps it was his shadow over her, or that dark feeling in her chest. Perhaps it was his power overwhelming her.

"You cannot escape." It was his voice. She tried to speak.

"No. Stay away." But her mouth was clamped shut. She could only will it. He smiled. She could feel him stroking her hair.

And the man standing in white linen turned to look back at her, but she could no longer see him.

_- - - - - _

For a moment, she thought she could hear a child's laughter.

Aru woke to a sharp jab at her side. Lazily she swatted her hand, only to have it caught by the wrist by Meela, the culprit. Aru ran her fingers through her hair groggily and lifted her head from the table, squinting at her friend.

"What?"

"Nothing," Meela said, letting go of her hand. "You just keep falling asleep."

Aru closed her eyes lowered her head again, mumbling into the table. "It's late. And I've been doing night watches for so long now..." Meela laughed and Tamar smiled weakly.

"You old woman," Meela said with a cocky smile. "How are you going to be a Thief if you're so tired so easily, eh?"

"The Thieves don't stay up hours on end like the Guard does," Aru said sourly. "And there's just been a sudden increase in night shifts."

"Well, rest well after tonight," Tamar advised, "The security has only been tight as of late because the King left to meet with the Hylian king. He's returning tonight, so things should return to normal."

Aru looked at Tamar, studying her friend's cheery face. Tamar was so different from the rest of them. Even aside from the fact that she lost her baby a few months ago, she was considerably more gentle and kind than the gerudo were expected to be. If it were not for her incredible skill with the horse and bow, she probably would have been raised alongside Loa as one of the lesser gerudo who did the less reputable tasks around the fortress.

"I suppose so," Aru said finally, but did not press the matter any further. And then she was about to stand up and announce that she was going to bed, but at that moment, Kisha stepped into the room with Loa.

"Aru, what did you do?" Kisha asked immediately while Loa greeted them all with a wave of the hand. Somewhat confused, Aru peered at Kisha, frowning.

"What?"

"The embassy to Hyrule Castle Town just returned. When I was helping unsaddle the Thieves' horses, I heard the King talking to one of his escorts. He asked her something and your name came up," Kisha explained. This immediately drew everyone's attention.

"What?" Meela exclaimed, and threw Aru a glance. "What did you do to get his attention that he would ask for you by name?" But Aru was just as confused, and shook her head.

"Nothing. He looks at me just as dismissively as he does to everyone else. And just because my name came up in a conversation doesn't mean he was asking about me," the girl replied defensively. She was tired, and this was not the way she wanted to gain attention. Her four friends looked at her with varying expressions on their faces. Meela stepped in closer and grasped Aru's shoulders and shook her, frustrated.

"Aren't you excited at all? It's the King! Really, what did you do?" But Aru roughly pushed her aside, and irritably brushed away the hair that had fallen loose.

"I'm telling you, I haven't done anything! I haven't the slightest clue as to what happened, and I'm not at all interested in finding out what it was," she snapped angrily. "Now if you've got nothing more interesting to talk about, I'm going to go to bed now."

Meela said something after, but she shut off her ears and stomped off. Tamar called her name, but Aru did not stop until she exited the room and found herself in the cold night air outside. She hugged herself and looked up the fortress walls. She sighed and paused a few seconds to gain control over her racing mind.

Then, she made her way slowly across the fortress towards her quarters. Most of the time she had wished there were indoor halls that led to the sleeping quarters. She often hated how that in order to go from the common areas to the dormitories, one had to step outside. But today, the cold allowed her to feel numb to the reeling sensation she was feeling.

She stopped after climbing the last wall, and looked toward the doorframe glowing with the light within. The sound of birds crying out and flocking above the cliffs reached her ears, and she looked up momentarily to see the dark cloud above her head. Instead of going inside, she approached the edge of the wall and sat down, still holding her arms, trying to keep herself warm. She just needed the time to think.

And she hated herself, because she found herself thinking about him again. Honestly, she had been thinking about him often. It must have had to do with the dreams she had been having as of late – though she never remembered what the dreams were like, she knew she had them. There were only fragments. A patch of white, a dark shadow. It was like trying to remember a lost memory. Shutting her eyes, she wondered about those images and the odd mix of emotions, of fear and love.

_Stay away from me._

It was him, he was the one haunting her dreams. She was sure of it. But the dreams left her confused, because at that moment, sitting over the silent fortress, she could not feel the usual hatred that she had for that man. She wished that she could speak to Jannu again, to ask her what she had meant when she said that the King had been chosen. Jannu knew something.

_Come here._

Her eyes flew open.

He was standing there, like a phantom, at the edge of the wall only just slightly beyond her. His painted burlap cloak flapped in the wind so close to her that she could have touched the hem with the tips of her fingers. He looked just like he always did when she peered down at him after the evening raids, his figure dark and sharply defined. But his eyes glowed in the darkness beneath the string of jewels and she could more closely see his finely-chiseled features. His black armor was so dark, and she could sense his strength.

And one arm was out stretched toward her, the fingertips almost brushing her chin. A slight smirk was etched on his face. And despite herself, terror flashed in her eyes.

But he was there, and then suddenly not there. Aru blinked, stupefied, hardly breathing, still paralyzed with fear. In the place that had been filled with his majesty and power was now an empty space. But she did not allow herself to think more on it because she got to her feet and fled inside the fortress.

_He is evil._ She thought as she ran down the hall, her bare feet pounding painfully against the brick floor. The thought again shot through her mind, and there was nothing in the world that she was more sure of than this. _He is pure evil._

When she neared her corridor, she noticed a couple of Thieves standing outside her door. She nearly collided into them, but managed to stop herself in time, while looking rather ungraceful in the process. The two Thieves glanced up and then down at her, scrutinizing her with patronizing gold-painted eyes. Ordinarily that sort of motion would have incensed her, but she could hardly even notice.

"Are you the one called Aru?" the Thief asked, her rough voice muffled slightly by that crimson veil. Aru caught her breath, forgetting to put up a strong face in front of these warriors that she had always admired and aspired to become.

"Yes, what do you want of me?" Somehow, she knew that they were scowling beneath their veils.

"The King has summoned you. Now come with us," the one closest to her said. Aru stared blankly at them, and uttered the single syllable.

"No."

_Why is this happening? Why all this, all of the sudden, now?_

The Thieves sharply looked back at her. The one closer to her reached out faster than she could react and gripped her firmly by the arm. Instinctively Aru stepped back, but the warrior's strength allowed her little room to move.

"When the King calls you by name, it is no longer your privilege. You have no choice in the matter." The woman's voice indicated that Aru had already passed her limits in patience. Then they turned around and crossedthe hall, dragging the girl behind them. She did not bother to struggle, but quickly in her mind sought to gain composure.

_Gods! Why is this happening to me?_

The answer came in a quiet whisper.

"Once the wheel of fate has started its descent, who has the power to cease its spinning?"

Aru sharply turned around, and stumbled as the Thieves were hardly slowed in their march down the corridor. But she saw noone.

"Jannu! Jannu!" But there was no reply.

They came to an entrance where two guards were stationed on either side. The opening was covered by a long burgundy curtain. Aru had never before stepped passed this area, but the Thieves nonchalantly parted the cloth and they stepped into the quiet, dimly lit hall. It felt colder here, and Aru felt the grip on her arm tighten. With each step of her bare feet on the frigid stone, she felt as if they were going deeper and deeper down, further and further away from the home she knew her entire life.

And she could feel that same presence. The same dark feeling she had outside, the same heavy premonition of her dreams. She could also feel that same, familiar hatred stirring inside. She remembered how he had robbed her of her friends, how he was so sickishly lavished upon purely because of his sex. She hated that feeling when he had smiled at her outside Loa's workshop, or when their eyes briefly met in the sandstorm.

But most of all, she hated that even without the iron grasp of the Thief pulling her along, she felt drawn down to these depths, into darkness where he was.

They came to a large opening in the wall where another burgundy curtain draped down. Above the arch, the skull of a massive beast decorated with brightly colored feathers stared down at them with dark and empty eyes. She haltingly glanced up at it as she felt them push her in with a firm shove in the middle of her back.

She stumbled into the room. It smelled of a strong, sweetish incense that instantly pricked up her senses. Her feet felt something very soft. When she looked down, she saw a spotted pelt spread across the ground, its legs pitifully stretched out towards the corners of the room. She dared to look further up, and she could already see him reclining on a scarlet cushioned divan. Even from that distance Aru could see the black writing on the unrolled scroll he was perusing. When he looked up, the gem set on his forehead and his earrings glimmered in the light.

She was taken aback by his appearance. He was not wearing his usual black armor, but was draped in a dark colored robe. His arms were uncovered and she could see that they were finely toned, but beyond that, she noticed the black patterns that had been tattoed onto chest, and snaked up his shoulder and upper arm. He lowered the scroll but did not rise as a Thief addressed him.

"My Lord, we have brought the one you inquired of."

He said nothing to them, but merely gave a wave of the hand. Understanding the gesture of their dismissal, Aru's two escorts promptly left, leaving Aru frozen at the entrance, unable to look away from the king's golden gaze.

"Come here."

It sounded just like the voice in her head, but this time, she did not have the strength to disobey. She took a step toward him before she realized what she was doing. Slowly he sat up and rolled up the rest of the scroll. He was studying her face, those piercing eyes unmoving.

And then he smiled.

He tossed the scroll on a side table and leaned back, resting his ringed fingers across his chin as he laughed, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Although you are overcome with fear, hatred still burns in your eyes. You truly are amusing."

"What do you want with me?" Aru asked defensively, narrowing her eyes, clenching her fists as well to keep them from shaking.

The king did not answer, but picked up a golden goblet, swirling it around in his palm as he watched the ruby surface. He was silent for a while, causing Aru to think that he was ignoring him, which she did not appreciate.

"For what purpose have you called me here?" she demanded as he took a drink. His eyes glanced up at her from the rim of his cup. When he put the goblet back down he leaned against the armrest with his fingers returning to rest on his chin.

"You think I have not noticed. You think you can roam this fortress with your open resentment and disregard of my authority and not suffer consequences for it. But contrary to what you may think, I know all about these things. I have seen your haughty eyes and have heard your words."

"You have made your people weak," Aru said defensively. "As we cater to your desires, our power becomes stale."

"What do you know of power?" he asked her, clearly amused. "Do you not know the story? By the grace of Din we have strength that none in Hyrule can match. But by Nayru, I possess the authority and power over the gerudo people. You think I bring darkness to the gerudo people, but you carry a darkness of your own in your heart."

She could say nothing to this. Slowly he stood and suddenly he was before her, towering over her. When he touched her, she felt her skin tingling. He raised her chin, forcing her to look up at him. He smelled like the sweet incense that pervaded the room. Never before had she ever been so close to him, except in perhaps her dreams.

"But that darkness is a power of its own. The power of a hatred so strong, it consumes you from the inside. Yes, I may relish in the strength that the gerudo give me through their love and adoration."

His fingers traced her jaw line, and made their way across, over her cheeks. They had no temperature to them, for they lacked warmth and were not even cool to the touch.

"But power is when you can take something for yourself because you have the strength to take it, especially from those who futilely attempt to resist." Aru stared at him disbelievingly. Her lips moved, and perhaps she was able to say those words, that one and only truth.

"You're evil."

He flashed a grin at her, and she froze.

"You cannot escape."

Her senses screamed at her to run. But as she turned she felt herself being roughly siezed by that darkness.

And he was much too strong.

_e n d . o f . p a r t . F i v e_

_Er… sorry for the really sporadic updates _; For a long while I was entertaining the thought of starting this entire story over, but I really don't think it would make it if I did. As you can see, this chapter is ridiculously longer than the others, which was poor planning on my part (that's why I wanted to restart ; ) but hopefully it's more interesting now? Hm. We'll see. Thanks for reading (:_


	6. Moira

_**Din's Blessing**_

by eolianstar

Zelda: Ocarina of Time © Nintendo

Rated for suggestive themes

_P a r t . S i x : Miora_

When she woke, she first noticed the light. But she couldn't bring her self to squint her eyes or turn away from it. It flooded through the window, right into her face, but she just lay there, staring up at the dim canopy above, her eyes not registering anything.

She could hear him stirring as he dressed. From the corner of her eye she could see the dark tattoo on the left side of his chest and shoulder. Upon seeing him, she closed her eyes.

_Why…_

When he noticed that she had woken, he came beside her, still partly undressed, and brushed aside her hair, stroking gently her cheek, wiping away the tear that she had allowed to escape down the side of her face.

"You needn't have been so afraid last night," he said gently. She could hear the smile in his voice. "I took good care of you."

For a long time, she lay there, exposed and devastated. A long time she lay there, after he had fully dressed and left, under his dark canopy in that sickishly sweetly fragranted room. She felt so sick she wanted to vomit.

When finally she forced herself to sit up, she wiped her eyes, brushing her face roughly with the back of her hand where he had touched her. But it was no use.

And she got up, dressed herself and left the room.

- - - - - -

When Aru returned to her room, the first thing she found out was that she had been promoted to second-in-command.

She took the news with a blank face, unresponsive to her friends' confusion. Meela and Kisha would not allow her any space as they took turns barraging her with questions. Tamar looked on in a slight daze, and even Loa appeared perturbed by it all.

"How is it even possible! For one in the Guard to go directly to second-in-command!" Kisha exclaimed. "What happened last night? Did you see him? What did he want from you?" Meela demanded.

Aru shut her eyes and wanted them to be quiet and to go away. Her mind was reeling and she felt as if she were about to vomit.

"Get away from me."

"Stop teasing! What happened? How did you win the King's favor?"

She felt an anger rising up then. An anger different from her usual hatred of the King. It was so violent and sudden, it made her scream. Her hand came up and she hit Meela forcibly in the face. She felt her nose cracking beneath her palm.

"Get away from me!" she shrieked and pushed Meela, whose nose began to bleed, away from her. "All you care about is him! Don't you care at all what happened to me?"

She stared around at all of them, at the four other girls she had thought were her dearest friends. There were varying amounts of confusion and anger and disbelief. Loa frowned at her, Meela held her stinging face, Tamar looked as if she were ready to cry and Kisha stared at her in shock. Aru held her arm and looked down at her red hand.

"I hate you," she closed her eyes tightly and refused to cry. "Damn it."

And with that she fled down the hall, not looking back. Her hair was still loose and flew behind her as she ran from her room. Her fists were balled so tightly that she could feel the nails digging into her palms.

_That's right_._ I couldn't expect them to understand._ Her pounding feet echoed through the deserted halls, carrying her farther and farther away without her knowing where. _We all became such different people so long ago. _

She felt that familiar hotness pour down her cheek, and she harshly wiped at it with the back of her hand.

_Damn it._

The light outside was blinding. The sun was so bright, even with all those shadows standing in front of her. She stood at the doorframe, and before her was the whole congregation of Gerudo Thieves in their scarlet silks and impressive twin cutlesses. Their veils rippled in the wind as the dust blew across their feet.

Farah turned around and looked at Aru. She put a hand on her hip and seemed to gaze down at the girl, even though they were too far away for her to be able to. Her eyes behind those golden painted eyelids and long black lashes glinted.

"The King must have a wry sense of humor." She approached the girl in all her majestic beauty. "For you to be second, only to him. But such a joke isn't quite to my taste. You're only a child."  
But Aru said nothing. This humiliation was too much for her to bear.

"I challenge you, Aru of the Guard," Farah declared, her earrings glittering as she moved. "I contend your position of second-in-command. May the gods decide between us through the victory of combat."

With that, she effortlessly siezed two large cutlesses by the handle, cutting through the air so quickly the eye could not follow the blade, and yet the stroke was completely silent. Someone pressed a cutless into each of Aru's hand as well, and when she lifted them, they felt so heavy. Her strength was with the bow and the saber and the blade-staff -- these blades, expertly used by the Thieves, were too heavy.

"No," she said quietly, but Farah had heard.

"It is your obligation, coward!" Farah shouted so that the whole company could hear. "When you are challenged, you have no choice but to defend your position!"

But she hardly had time to say anything else, because Farah suddenly appeared before her, raining blows down. If Aru hadn't crossed her two blades together in a shield in front of her, the older woman would have easily lopped off her head. The sound of metal clashing was deafening and the sparks startled her.

_This is wrong, _Aru wanted to shout. _This was not how it was supposed to be._ Her dream to be a Thief, to be the most peerless and skilled of the gerudo… even that hope, he had taken from her and dashed to pieces.

She stepped back quickly so that Farah's blade slid off. But Farah came at her quickly, stroke after stroke after stroke. Aru felt so clumsy, and each blow left a jarring vibration shooting up her arms. The advances caused her to brush up close to the edge of the circle that the watching gerudo formed. She was losing footing, and each second the cutlesses became heavier…

_I can't let him destroy everything I wanted._

To gain distance, she slipped to the side, dropping one of her cutlesses. Without a word she grabbed one of the blade-staffs from a watching Guard. She assumed a more offensive stance, but Farah laughed at her.

"Do you really think that a child's weapon could give you more of an advantage here? How naïve."

Aru refused to show any reaction to her taunts. Farah would not have allowed enough time for that anyhow, as she immediately came after her, the wide, curved blade shining in her hand.

Aru raised her staff vertically so that it caught the first blade. She caught the second blade with the cutless, her arms trembling with the tension. She shoved the staff so that it forced Farah back, and pulled it back in order to attempt a stab. Farah plucked it off effortlessly, as if she were swatting a bee. She scowled.

"It's annoying now that you're actually trying. Poor girl, you think you have a chance," she smiled slightly. "I'm done playing with you."

Without having the time to register her words, Aru felt an extreme pain in her wrist as Farah brought a strong blow down on both of her weapons. It was enough to force her to release her grip. The blade-staff fell to the ground and the cutless swirled into the air, falling a few feet beyond them. It was a blow strong enough to force her to the ground, as Farah's blade curved victoriously under her chin.

"This is the difference between you and me," Farah whispered, the intense hatred flashing in her eyes.

And Aru was humiliated.

"My lord!" Farah shouted. When Aru looked up, she could see his figure mounted on top of that soot black horse. His silhouette obscured even the brightness of the sun, his front side completely cast over in shadow. "I ask the right to reclaim my former place. The gods decided between us, and in fair combat, I have won."

The king dismounted without a word. And despite all his beauty, Aru could only see his ugliness.

He approached Farah, and there, in front of the whole gerudo congregation, kissed her. There was an odd sort of silence that followed.

The King laughed, and ran his hand down the side of her face as he looked at her.

"My dear Farah. You have done well. But even if the gods have chosen you, I would still dare to defy the gods." He traced a finger down her cheek. "I have already spoken."

Farah's face changed from confusion to that of irritation.

"I don't understand, my lord! You would choose this ugly and clumsy little girl over me?"

"Go back home, Farah." The King in a level voice, but there was a shadow there that threatened violence. "You try my patience."

Forgetting to feign respect, she pulled back from him and threw a nasty look at Aru, who was still kneeling, her head looking at the ground. She viciously threw her weapons to the ground and headed toward the fortress. The gerudo parted to make a way for her, and slowly, they followed suit, unable to stand the awkwardness or humiliation suffered by both contenders.

As the area cleared, Aru could feel his presence, his shadow, over her. She hated herself then. She was afraid of him, she was trembling.

But he gently took her by the arms and forced her to stand. He must have felt her shaking, because he put his arms around her as if she were a frightened child.

"I must admit, I am a little disappointed," he whispered, his head lowered so that it just shielded hers. "I didn't think that burning spirit of yours would be quenched so quickly. Don't you have the will to resist me any longer? Has Farah hurt your pride that much?"

"This is your doing," she said, her teeth clenched, her eyes threatening tears. "You…"

"Now, that's more like it." He laughed his low laugh. His armor felt so cold against her skin. "You keep building that hatred of yours, that will be your source of strength." She felt his hands go lower, as his not-cold, not-warm fingers trailed down her midriff. "Soon, it will overcome you and grow, like the child inside of you."

Angrily, she pushed off of him. She wanted to kill him.

"You sick man," she seethed, still trembling. But that was all she could say.

He had the faint trace of a smile on his lips, and he turned to retrieve his horse. As he walked it away, he said one last thing to her.

"I expect that you will be ready for the raid tomorrow, second commander."

She clenched her fist.

And she knew he was right.

Because now, it was only her hatred for him that would motivate her to live.

And kneeling, she raised a blade and sliced through her beautiful, long, scarlet hair. This would be her humiliation, her vow. She was no longer the little girl named Aru, waiting on that hill, with her childish desires and dreams.

"My name will be Moira, second in command of the gerudo. Before Din, I swear I will see your ruin."

And the words were lost to the wind.


	7. Azhaer

_**Din's Blessing**_

by eolianstar

Zelda: Ocarina of Time © Nintendo

Rated for suggestive themes

_P a r t . S e v e n : Azhaer_

_

* * *

_

If losing to Farah those many months ago had been humiliating, this was pure mortification.

Moira, second in command of the mighty gerudo people, was at the mercy of three or four of the lesser gerudo around her as they urged and shouted and ran in and out of the chamber. In the pain and chaos, she realized then why other cultures saw women as weak and vulnerable. It was because of this moment.

And she cursed his name over and over and over. She persuaded herself that it made her feel better, and in some ways, it did. The only true source of consolation, however, was available when she reminded herself that she would have her revenge.

_I'll kill him,_ she thought furiously, gritting her teeth, tasting the salt of her own sweat on the corner of her lips. _He'll pay dearly for this!_

But such dark thoughts would have to wait for later, because shortly, the esteemed Moira lost consciousness, the cries and shouting still lingering in her ears.

- o -

Within the span of the next day, her memories were hazy and incoherent as she vaguely remembered the times she drifted in and out of consciousness. When she finally woke fully at last, her head felt groggy and she felt so tired and sore. Not even bothering to sit up, she breathed out sharply and touched her brow, as if trying to alleviate her headache.

"Whoever is out there," she shouted, her voice was scratchy, "attend me at once!"

When the young lesser gerudo girl entered the room, she bowed her head and kept it low.

"Bring me something to eat," Moira said without moving. The girl acknowledged her command and left the room.

As she waited, Moira continued to massage her head. Her short hair clung to her face, and she could feel that it was ruffled on one side. It was only the lesser gerudo, those women who were unskilled in weaponry and did the menial and less honorable tasks around the fortress, that had short hair. But when she made that vow on the day of her promotion, she had felt so powerful. Her hair was even shorter than that of the lesser gerudo. It was as short as the King's.

Nobody had asked why. Similarly to why nobody had asked her why she had chosen to be called by a name of a gerudo queen who had lived hundreds of years ago and had been executed for treachery. She found a twisted enjoyment in seeing how all who spoke to her averted their gaze and spoke respectfully.

After a few minutes, she could hear the footsteps re-entering the room. A group of young lesser-gerudo girls entered through the curtain, carrying short tables of steaming bowls and golden cups. Moira sat up slowly, cursing the pain in her head and the sore ache in her muscles.

She ate the sharply seasoned meat with the bitter vegetables without tasting it.

The last few months had been misery. Many of the Thieves had sided with Farah (who had been demoted to third-in command and thus donned the green that Zahina had forfeited), but many also were faithful to the King. It was painfully obvious that her station as second-in-command was a joke.

But fueled by her pride, she had learned to become a warrior. Hatred was her greatest strength. It made her a fierce warrior and a brutal oppressor. She was merciless to both her subordinates and those she raided.

"Raze it to the ground," she told the Thieves without even casting a glance at the ransacked village. She could hear the weeping of the villagers, but her heart was hardened.

"You are a cruel enemy," the King said to her, riding up beside her as she watched the dancing flames. She did not move as he traced a finger down her cheek and chin. "What a beautiful sight."

When she was too heavy to ride comfortably, she refrained from attending the raids. For the last few months of her pregnancy, she sat in the tallest room of the fortress and gazed down into the courtyard. Sometimes she would spot Jannu at nighttime, making her way across the slope, toward the haunted wasteland. And Moira would catch herself almost calling out to the old woman, in her heart praying that she could perhaps save her from this blackness.

But she would purse her lips into a tight line and turn away from the window.

And now, her confinement in the fortress was over, and she could again participate in the raids. She looked down at her half eaten food, and pushed the dish away from her, as if she were disgusted.

"What day is it?" She asked one of the girls kneeling at her bedside.

"The second day of the waning crescent, most esteemed queen."

She had started to scowl when she heard the date, but the final clause made her freeze. She opened her eyes at this, allowing a form of surprise to overtake her face.

"_What did you call me?_" The girl was taken aback by Moira's icy tone, and stumbled with her words.

"M-my queen…"

Moira got to her feet immediately, ignoring her screaming head and limbs.

"Leave it," she demanded roughly as the girls started to stand to remove the table. "Dress me this instant and take me to the child."

- o -

When they dressed her in the golden silks and the finest jewelry of the gerudo, it felt heavy and weighed her down. When she saw him sleeping peacefully in the white linens, his cheeks rosy and eyelashes long, even though merely an infant, it made her feel so empty inside.

And she did not know which was more impossible. The fact that the child was male, or the fact that she was a mother.


	8. Yori

_ She could see the young man in the white linen standing before the gate of the fortress, looking up the parapets. She felt so empty watching the dreamy desert landscape fade in and out of the wind and sand beyond him. She without being able to discern the words, she could hear his voice only slightly above the howling storm, and despite the thick veil of sand that forced her to screw her eyes tight, she could see him there._

_ "…"_

_ And behind her, she felt another presence. _He_ stood there, his armored arms crossed around her waist, his breathing stroking her cheek. His fingers grazed across her stomach and she knew that she could never escape._

_ "I've come," she heard the young man in front of her say. But she shut her eyes this time and closed her ears, fully embracing the darkness that held her captive from behind._

_ "You're mine," the one behind her said, and she was resigned._

_**Din's Blessing**_

by eolianstar

Zelda: Ocarina of Time © Nintendo

Rated for suggestive themes

_P a r t . E i g h t : Yori_

It happened in the early morning when the sun was still sleeping and the Thieves were saddling their horses for the day's raid. She saw the shadow on the ground below her first, and then the blur of scarlet in the air as she turned.

The immediate reaction was to take a side step, which she did, and saved her own life. But she was not fast enough as to evade the blade. Her own blade flashed in her hand as she stroked it out of the scabbard. She felt it strike something solid as she felt a sharp, intense pain on her left shoulder.

The Thief who had attacked her landed on the ground near her feet, and Moira felt something wet hit her foot. She could see that her assailant was wounded in the arm, but there was a clear look of hatred in those eyes above the veil. She sprang forward with her blades raised as Moira raised hers to defend herself.

The clanging attracted attention, and the other Thieves stood around like silent redstone statues. Moira did not bother wondering why nobody intervened. Instead, she simply allowed her left arm to fall uselessly at her side and focused on the speed of her right hand's attacks. With each movement, a throbbing pain flared up and the blood spattered her clothes. Even with only one hand, she clearly had the upper hand.

_Bothersome_, she thought through gritted teeth, thoroughly annoyed with the situation. The ferocity with which her adversary moved suggested to her that she harbored a personal grudge. The attacks were fierce, but uncoordinated, as if they were made in desperation or rage, or a combination of both. At last, Moira found an opening and hit the wrist of her assailant with her saber hard enough to bite through the leather gauntlet. The woman cried out and dropped her blade, allowing enough time for the Queen to deliver a similar blow to the other hand as she kneed the uncovered stomach just beyond.

The woman collapsed, and as quick as a thought, the cold line of a blade was pressed into the back of her neck. Then, Moira observed her wound for the first time, and grimaced as the pain increased just by her looking at it.

"Uncover her veil," she ordered one of the Thieves that had been standing about. When the woman's face was uncovered, she spat at the Queen's feet. She was an older woman, the paint on her eyes smeared with the sweat that dripped down her brow. Moira recalled that her name was Yori, and that she was notorious for consistently throwing herself upon the King. The fact that he now had a Queen made no difference to his promiscuous habits. After Farah's fall, Yori became one of his favorite lovers… but this made no difference to the special, sadistic attention he paid to the young Queen of the Gerudo.

And she understood, because Yori's obsession with the King would lead her to do such a fanatical thing. That sort of obsession made much sense to her.

"Take her away," the Queen said, and started to turn away, but the King spoke.

"There's no need," the King said. "Execute her on the spot, my Queen, for it is your right."

He came up to them, handing his steed off to one of the stable girls. He never looked at Yori, still immobilized under Moira's blade, straddled between two other Thieves. From angle, Moira was the only one who could see the shock in the woman's face. Suddenly she was struck with the memory of the time Farah had defeated and humiliated her. The feeling was so familiar, and it made her sick to her stomach.

After a long stretch of silence, the Queen spoke, and sheathed her weapon.

"Then I defer my right. I'm leaving."

Before she could even fully turn, the King spoke again, and Yori's neck slashed open.

There was no way Moira could ever adequately describe that moment. The blood gushed out like a fountain, splattering out and staining the clothes and cheeks and hair of everyone who stood near. For a brief moment, the scene reminded her of when she had watched one of the stolen cattle being slaughtered once, when the blade was brought down to sever the head clean through. The warmth spattered against her skin in dots, and Yori's full head, hair and all, fell and rolled so that those shocked eyes stared up at her. The body followed, spraying two Thieves, who screamed.

And covered in her assailant's blood, Moira stood with an expression on her face that was of true horror. Despite those months and months she had spent building up the façade of emotionless leader, she stared at those shocked eyes staring back up at her from the level of her feet. The King was still a little bit of a distance away, his hand slightly raised. There had always been rumor that the King could use magic, most likely the legacy of his godmothers. There was no doubt now.

"Are you satisfied then?" he said in a dangerously calm voice, and the whole company shuddered. But Moira failed to answer as she stood in that silence with the blood soaking into her thin leather sandals. She was too busy holding her breath, trying so hard not to catch the metallic stench\, trying so hard not to vomit.

The King laughed, pointing to one of the Guard with a loose gesture. "Clean that up and finish the rest of the preparations. We have lost precious time."

The Queen of the gerudo sat in the isolation of her room, ignoring the stinging pain on her neck and shoulder while looking out into the darkness of the night. The wind rustled through the silk draperies, causing the light from the candle to flicker dimly and bounce a dull light off of the golden silk of her royal clothes. She had taken off all the golden jewelry - her only adornment was that white linen bandage around her neck and shoulders.

She had stayed behind that day. The pounding of hooves from the returning raiders could be heard from her room, and she watched as the dark figures passed across the landscape in a cloud of sand. She could see him clearly as he passed on his reins to a lesser gerudo, his cape covering him as it fluttered in the breeze.

"My Queen." The voice startled her, and if someone had been in the room to see it, they would have jumped too, because her reaction was so sudden. "Prince Azhaer is crying and will not stop."

She did not move for a long while, and remained at the window, watching until all the raiders were gone. When she stepped out of her room, the servant girl was still waiting anxiously at the door, and looked relieved when her call was answered.

On their way to the prince's chambers, they turned a corner and Loa was approaching them from the opposite direction, her hand grasping a sheathed saber.

"My Queen," the gerudo artisan bowed in greeting, but Moira did not react. Whether it was the sourness of Meela's expression or the sadness of Tamar's voice, she chose to no longer acknowledge her old friends. It was because they had betrayed her, she thought in her mind. They had refused to listen to her or understand her. After the birth of the prince, a new tension was also birthed between her and her former companions, as if the Aru they had once known had ceased to exist altogether. They were strangers to each other.

_I am alone_, Moira had decided long ago. _Even Din has abandoned me._

But unlike many previous awkward confrontations, Loa chose not to be simply ignored and stopped Moira's stride by addressing her once more.

"My Queen, just a moment. Please take this," she said, her eyes low as she presented the sheathed blade in both hands and held it out. The Queen of the gerudo looked upon the offering with indifferent eyes. It was very familiar, but her eyes betrayed no sense of recognition.

"Take it," she ordered the servant girl. Without a further word, she continued on down the hall with Loa bowing in her wake.

Once they were getting close to the child's chambers, they could hear the crying even around the corner. Inside the room, many of the lesser gerudo were surrounding the baby, cooing and tenderly stroking the child, attempting to appease him with no success. The woman holding the prince herself looked very unhappy and seemed as if she wanted to cry herself as he started to scream at the top of his lungs.

When they noticed the queen, they were all too relieved to remember to bow. Azhaer, as if sensing his mother's presence, became silence almost instantly, the tears from his large amber eyes staining his face. He was such a beautiful child, even though still an infant, and when he reached out for her, it was almost heartbreaking to all who observed him.

And yet she was unfeeling as she took him in his arms, clenching her teeth with annoyance while grimacing with the pain in her shoulder. It was a mystery to all those in the room why the prince was so attached to a mother who was clearly indifferent to him. She was the only one in the entire fortress who could silence his tantrums, even though she never went to see him on her own accord.

But he carried _his_ blood, as well as hers. As she cradled the boy and felt him fall asleep against her, she could never forget that fact. It seemed too ironic then, that she was holding in that moment the one thing Yori had coveted the most but could never give to the King herself. She paid the price for her jealousy.

When Azhaer had fallen asleep, she passed him onto one of his nurses without looking behind her. As her servant girl escorted her back to her own room, she asked for the saber that Loa had given to her.

She pulled out half of the blade, seeing all its familiar scratches and cracks. For a moment she recalled the scent of Loa's smithy and all the times she had gone to see her friend, how she had met that girl named Nabooru, how things were so different then with all her dreams.

And for some reason, as she looked on her own old blade, she felt a sense of regret and resented Loa for reminding her of all that she had lost. She gave it back to the girl and before retreating back into her quarters, gave her orders.

"Throw it away."


	9. Twinrova

_**Din's Blessing**_

by eolianstar

Zelda: Ocarina of Time © Nintendo

Rated for suggestive themes

_P a r t . n i n e : Twinrova_

The day of the Prince's first birthday was more pompous and frivolous than Moira had ever wanted. The last time the fortress had experienced such an event may very well have been the King's own first birthday, and the preparations for the feast began very early morning and lasted until sundown when the festivities began.

The fortress was drowning in tapestries and silk so that even the exteriors were alive with color. The bonfire that had been built in the center of the courtyard was so large that it seemed to hover over the whole valley. The flames danced wildly and the smoke swirled into the night sky in an enormous cloud. Bowls of cashews and dates, bronze pitchers filled to the brim with dark wine and other dishes with steaming entrees were patterned elegantly at the long table that spanned the width of the courtyard.

Moira sat at her place, watching the dancers with mild interest. She had refused to put on the ridiculously ornate headdress and collar that was normally reserved for the woman of her title, but was persuaded to wear the linen dress and have her hair beaded. Azhaer bounced in his nurse's lap, gurgling and laughing as he was captivated by the dancers' formation and the musicians' rhythm. The collar he wore was a golden eagle with its emerald wings embracing the child's neck, and occasionally he yanked at it with his tiny hands. The King was not anywhere to be seen during the entire duration of the banquet. Moira had not bothered to question his whereabouts.

Azhaer laughed loudly. It was a laugh with such clarity that seemed to capture the attention of all who were near. Even the Queen gazed over at the young gerudo Prince as he waved his balled fists and attempted to twist out of the control of his nurse. She watched with slight interest as he looked her way and seemed to catch her glance. He beamed so sweetly and grabbed the air in front of him ecstatically.

Her attention was diverted, however, when the performers gasped, and suddenly it was the shadows instead that started to dance all around them as the fire roared higher and intensified in color. The flames seemed to spiral around the pit as a figure formed at its center. Moira at first thought that it was the King making a showy entrance, especially when the fire turned bluish and the silhouette began to descend. So she was surprised when instead it was a beautiful woman, holding a staff in each hand, who stepped out. Her hair was like fire and ice, flowing behind her and glimmering brightly in the firelight.

She was overflowing with magic; the very air around her seemed to buzz. Moira suddenly became very tense, knowing exactly who the unexpected visitor was.

"A blessing for the prince," the witch said, a sly smile on her face as she stepped closer to the table. Azhaer was oddly quiet as the stranger approached him, the colors from her wands reflecting in his large amber eyes. Moira was as still as a statue as the nurse willingly allowed the woman to come close. Pointing the two wands towards each other so that the tips of the opposing elements met, Twinrova uttered a spell. A light formed at the edge, spinning and swirling brighter than even the fire.

"May you live long and triumph over your enemies. May you live in power and honor over your people." Her voice was low and seemed to vibrate like the magic that hung thickly in the air. After these words, she continued to hum words that were so indiscernible that Moira wasn't sure if it was a different language.

The Prince wailed very softly at first, but as the lights grew brighter and swirled all around them, he shrieked over Twinrova's chanting. Something about that cry inexplicably pierced Moira's heart. Without reason, all her indifference seemed to melt away and something instinctual took control of her limbs as she panicked and sprang to her feet.

After that, the next moment was so surreal that the Queen wondered if she were dreaming. Above all of Azhaer's screaming and Twinrova's guttural recitation, an inhuman cry echoed through the valley. It was so loud and sharp that Moira thought her ears would burst. Everybody moved their hands to cover their ears, and in that instant, a large bird descended upon them with the sun on its wings, all sharp talons and golden feathers. It moved so quickly and yet so slowly that it seemed to blur together with the light from Twinrova's staffs.

Very intentionally, the bird hovered over the witch and lashed out its claws towards her exposed arms, leaving three long stripes across the bronze skin. The woman let out a shrilly curse and immediately all light from the spell dropped and the courtyard returned to its usual darkness. Moved by the sight of the bird, Moira continued to gaze at its glowing form as it spread out its enormous wings and flew towards the cliff top. A shower of smaller birds of prey, tiny specks of shadow compared to the larger bird, panicked and took flight all at once.

Twinrova scowled, cradling her arms close to herself. She spun around and exploded into smoke, and from where she stood, two tiny women on their broomsticks flew into the night sky, escaping over the fortress walls and toward the desert beyond.

When the Queen tore her eyes away from the golden bird, the first thing she realized was that the Prince was still wailing pitifully. Without a thought she took him from his nurse, drawing him close to herself, allowing her palm to fit perfectly on the back of his head. The gerudo that had attended the banquet began all at once to erupt into a chatter, about the Twinrova witches, about the mysterious spell, about that magnificent bird… But all Moira could hear was Azhaer's sobbing and hiccupping as he pressed against her, clutching onto the folds of her dress.

Almost as suddenly as the murmuring had begun, it fell into a silence as they all noticed the King standing at the center, close to the dead bonfire, looking toward the cliffs where the bird had disappeared. His expression was unlike anything Moira had ever seen before. He looked so angry, it was so different from the calm composition of his usual face.

"Clean all this up," he said, and he said it with more emotion then than the other time he had given the same order during Yori's execution. "The party's over."

As he turned away, Moira's eyes focused behind the King's form where Jannu was gazing straight back at her. The old woman's stare was intense, and her expression was just as troubling as the King's.

"Take the Prince back to his room," Moira said, her expression dark. She passed the unhappy child back to his equally unhappy nurse. "Make sure that nobody goes in to see him."

- o -

"No more of your riddles, old woman," Aru demanded of Jannu in the privacy of her quarters. "Tell me what had just happened now. That witch was trying to kill my son."

"His life was spared again… Neither the witches' curse nor the King's power has any sway over her will," Jannu said, ignoring the demand that had been given to her. The Queen angrily grasped the folds of her cloak, drawing the woman closer in a manner that suggested that she was not going patiently tolerate any arcane answers.

"Whose will? Damn it, woman, you know everything! Even back then, you knew!" Jannu was silent, and the Queen shook her roughly. "The gods know I'll kill you with my bare hands if you keep your silence! What is this secret that you are hiding? What does it have to do with my son?"

"My Queen, listen to yourself," Jannu began, and calmly placed her hands on top of her assailant's, gently prying them away from grasping her cloak. "You know not even who you love."

The words struck the Queen in the face. Replaying her own words in her head, she thought of the Prince and his laughter, of the King's anger, of her own panic in that moment as Twinrova's chant echoed in her ears.

The young woman took a step back then, the fear she had for Azhaer's well-being suddenly shifting into the fear of realizing that she no longer knew herself. Even her hatred toward the King seemed something so different than it had been before. She fell to her knees and covered her face, the beads in her hair cold against her skin, her brow wrinkled against her fingers. All of the sudden, she felt so tired… so tired…

Jannu tenderly wrapped her cloaked arms around the girl's shoulders.

"Do not despair, my Queen. That golden bird was last seen on the night of the Prince's birth. She intervened to save his life then as she did tonight." The old woman's voice whispered above her left ear, and Aru could smell all the desert spices on that ancient breath. "The truth that I cannot tell you, the very thing that you seek is on the cliff above the fortress. If you think you are strong enough to know, climb to the very top and find the answer."

- o -

The cold desert night was oddly familiar to her. The winds were bitter and even sharper at that height as she climbed, her long linen dress dirty and completely tattered along the hem. But she was determined to make it to the top. At one point when she had reached a stable shelf, she pulled off her torn sandals and discarded them, continuing on with her bare feet.

When she pulled herself over the edge of the cliff, she cried out as the flock of black desert birds, startled at her presence, took wing and threw themselves into the air, colliding into her as a group, getting caught in her clothes and hair. She swung out her arm in habit, and had she been carrying her saber, she would have easily sliced through some of them mercilessly.

When the air cleared, she was amazed to see that nothing separated her from the desert sky. She was equally amazed when a stench hit her, and frantically she allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness as she scanned the cliff top.

And there, under the clear sight of the heavens, like an offering made to the gods, lay the terrible secret of the gerudo.


	10. Ruca

_**Din's Blessing**_

by eolianstar

Zelda: Ocarina of Time © Nintendo

Rated for suggestive themes

_P a r t . t e n : Ruca_

It was warm, so unlike the fortress with its stone walls and cold décor. It was so light, as if a bright world completely surrounded her where she lay.

When she woke, she realized that she was covered with a sheep-skin blanket and supported by soft cloth pillows. Sitting up, she peered at her surroundings, looking around the large tent. The material that draped from the central stake and formed the ceiling and walls of the shelter was orange and let in so much light that she could tell that it was already midday. An enormous rug spanned the entire length of the tent, and she could feel the sand under the cloth beneath her feet. There was a desk space and many books with parchment neatly arranged on small shelves.

The entrance was a little ways away from her, and it was the brightest spot as the flap was slightly open and the ground beneath it was shining and golden from the afternoon sunlight. Through the thin walls of the tent she could hear the sound of bleating and a sharp scent permeated the air, but it smelled so good. She was so hungry.

After surveying the area, she very quickly came to her senses and came to a painful realization that there was something missing. She sprang up, letting the sheepskin blanket fall at her feet, and started to anxiously look around, spinning in place as her eyes searched the entire tent. She picked up each of the folded blankets that had been in a nearby pile one-by-one and did the same for all the pillows.

After a few more moments of panicky searching, she stumbled out of the tent to see the fire and something roasting in the pit. There was a small group of sheep close to the tent close to a small well and watering trough. There, she could also see her horse tied to the short fence, drinking from the water source.

Something further off sparkled in the sand. Squinting her eyes , she could make out a dark, slate-blue colored stone with a flat surface. On the smoothened side was the engraving of a symbol that looked like the sun with one circle towards the top surrounded by rays. When her eyes trailed around, she could see many other stones just like it surrounding the camp.

"Ah, so you're awake."

Startled, she dashed away from the sound of the voice, her hand instinctively moving to her side for her imaginary blade. The man coming up behind her was holding a wooden staff in one hand and carrying Azhaer in the other. He was an older man, maybe in his early thirties, but the desert wind and sand had caused the skin of his face to look dark and worn. His beard was a reddish-golden color, and his nose was aquiline, like the gerudo, but she could see that he was a foreigner. Though they were hiding behind his hair and cloth headdress, she could see that his ears were pointed. His most prominent feature, however, were the sky-colored eyes that held so much clarity that they looked almost like glass. Even though there was a dark shadow cast from his turban, his eyes seemed to shine and smile too, wrinkling at the corners. A kind face.

Azhaer looked quite comfortable in the stranger's protection, but her hands darted out to retrieve him. The man looked apologetic and created more of a space between them.

"Pardon me… He was so intrigued by the lambs that I took him with me to the pasture." She said nothing about this explanation, but rather made demands of her own.

"Who are you? And where are we?"

The stranger picked up on the suspicion enlaced in her tone of voice and knowingly alleviated the tension by moving closer to the fire, busying himself with the task of moving more kindling into the flames.

"My name is Ruca, and I am a shepherd in these parts. We're in the desert, but don't worry… whoever you were running from, they won't be able to find us here, even if they do have a guide through the Haunted Wasteland. You were fortunate that I was able to find you in that dust storm… the gods must favor you."

Azhaer cooed and smacked his mother's arm with his tiny hand a few times. She furrowed her brow and tried to remember the last moment of consciousness before waking up in Ruca's tent. There was that dryness and thirst, the memory of that strange midnight flight, away from the Fortress, away from the gerudo…

"Come sit by the fire and eat," Ruca continued, preparing the meal, working with his large, and yet deft, hands. "You must have some story to tell."

The woman did so, her son still in her arms, and she took the bowl without thinking. Azhaer let out a piercing peal of laughter, and she could see how Ruca's sky-colored eyes brightened.

"What is his name?" He asked as she blew off the steam from the hot curds and fed the boy.

"Azhaer."

"And yours?"

There was a bit of silence at this, and she looked so focused on spooning the food into the child's mouth that it might have looked like she hadn't heard his question.

"I have no name anymore. And I have no story to tell."

"Well, that's going to make things difficult," the shepherd responded, he himself scraping his bowl with his spoon. "What am I to call you then?"

"Whatever you like," she responded indifferently. There was a moment of silence, and she suddenly felt upon her this strange pressure to start talking. To tell him about what had happened, who she used to be, why she was running away… it was almost as if he were patiently waiting for her to start speaking in her timing, without any verbal prodding on his part. He had a strange kindness that she did not particularly want to appreciate. Frowning, she pushed aside the feeling.

"Chiyo," Ruca said suddenly, as if he had decided something.

"What?" she snapped.

"That's what I will call you, if you don't mind."

She watched him suspiciously and the child laughed again. He didn't continue on to talk about why he had chosen the name or what its significance was, as if it were once again her cue to ask. But despite herself and the curiosity she had towards his name of choice, she wasn't about to appease the stranger, so she simply just let the question go unsaid.

But he seemed all right with the awkward silence, and busied himself with the tea as the metal kettle whistled from on top of the bed of coals.

The silence went on for a little while, and eventually, full of curds and milk, Azhaer inevitably fell asleep in his mother's arms, his crown of scarlet ruffled as his head drooped against her shoulder. Ruca offered her a steaming mug of dark brownish-purplish tea, but she declined by refusing to take it.

"He is a boy." Ruca stated the obvious fact, but because it was Azhaer, the woman now known as Chiyo felt strangely defensive. "But Ganondorf himself is rather young still, is he not?"

It was so strange to hear his name so casually used. Perhaps things were really different in the outside world, after all.

"Keep to your own business, old man," she said, her tone neutral. He did not seem offended by the inappropriate title she gave him, but rather smiled.

"Perhaps it isn't my business… but I'm very interested in matters of the gerudo. The whole world is watching Ganondorf, King of the desert, especially with the current affairs of the state and politics at Hyrule castle." Silence. "But to be fair, I suppose I also have a personal reason for my interest, as my mother herself was a gerudo."

This surprised Chiyo very much, because she had never before met a man other than the King who was gerudo, even if just partly. Suddenly and very inexplicably, she felt as though the first barrier had been torn down inside of her.

But just as suddenly, the thought of Ruca being a man and being gerudo triggered a memory. That image…

It took her whole willpower not to cover her mouth at the thought. Instead, she pursed her lips and gave her firm response.

"…I will not talk about it. That was the life I have left behind, and will never return to. Don't speak of it to me again."

- o -

Ruca's kindness was something that she could never understand. To take in a complete stranger and share his assets with her, and not only her, but an infant son as well, she could not understand it. He not only met her needs but also took on the extra effort to see to her comforts as well. The conversations were still strained on her end, and yet he spoke amiably and openly as if she were his confidant. This level of vulnerability was so foreign to her. He spoke about what he thought or how he felt about things… it was so very strange.

It began this way, and continued on for a few weeks. He taught her many things, how to herd the sheep and sheer them and milk them. She learned how to make cheese and cook over a fire, all things that she never had to do in her life at the fortress. It was a simple life, but somehow it didn't feel boring. And he never asked her when she was going to leave, indeed perhaps it was because she didn't know herself if she were going to.

Azhaer adapted to this life very quickly as well. He was very fond of Ruca and was like an angel to him, hardly ever crying or throwing tantrums as he did for his royal nurses. It was a mutual affection, and the man was always praising the child and speaking tenderly to him. He started to call him a prince, and the first time it caused Chiyo to start and turn her head, but she realized that it was just a pet name. It made her uneasy, but as much as she did not want to be indebted to him, Ruca made the two of them feel very safe.

Perhaps she could trust him.

One night as the sheep and Azhaer were sleeping and the moon was just a tiny sliver, like the white of Chiyo's fingernail, she and Ruca sat by the fire in a silence, listening to the wolves howling in the distance.

"I came to the desert to learn more about myself, to meditate and pray," Ruca said suddenly, sitting with his elbows on his knees, his staff leaning against his forearm. "I lived in Hyrule Castle town for a long while with my father. He met my mother during one of the yearly festivals at the harvest time. He would always tell me the story of how he met her, he was just a young carpenter at the time, working for the Royal Family. He saw her in the crowd, tall and slender, her hair like a flickering flame as she laughed and spun around and around in the dance. He always told me that he had no chance, in an instant he was under her spell."

Chiyo listened and allowed herself to drift into the story, her knees drawn up close to her chest, her eyes gazing into the fire as she tried to imagine the festival. She herself had never been to Hyrule Castle, but many gerudo sometimes went to amuse themselves. She wondered if Ruca's mother was as lovely as Tamar had been when she danced, or perhaps sultry and cocky like Meela. She continued to imagine the scene as the woman caught the eye of her Hylian admirer, perhaps a man like Ruca, kind and with big hands, and as in a dream swept up to him to kiss him. Maybe the moment felt so right with the swaying music and the lights, and afterwards, in love, they…

It was embarrassing for her to imagine such a scene, and she felt like a little girl as she reddened despite herself. The girl named Aru that was buried deep inside of her thought that it was a wonderful beginning to a story. The woman named Moira only knew the violence that had ended Aru's life, and rejected it. All that was left was Chiyo, forever violated, desolate. Yes, that was who she was now. Ruca could never understand.

"It is a sad story," the shepherd continued, he too, gazing into the fire. "But perhaps a typical love story in its brevity. She always belonged to the desert, and it was always her first love. The next time he saw her, she kept her face veiled and wouldn't let him see it. Instead, she gave him a son to raise, because the child would not be accepted among the gerudo."

"But you feel you didn't belong there either," she said suddenly, distantly, her eyes still far away.

"No. When I was a youth I sought answers. I even studied to be a priest at the Temple of Time, and was ordained for many years. I learned much, and I am the man that I am because of the instruction and mentorship I had at that time… but there is something else that I was meant to do, or rather, am meant to do. Perhaps it is my small destiny."

He stopped there, as if waiting to hear her reaction to his story. The conflicting thoughts and confused emotions built up in her head as she tried to make sense of it all. Of the gerudo, of the King, of dreams and hope. After a little while, she clenched her fist unhappily, and it was, in the end, Chiyo who answered him.

"You are too naïve," she said with bitter sharpness, "to think this way. Destiny is just a word people use to take advantage of the weak, or to make the weak feel a false sense of hope."

Ruca looked at her with no change in expression, and she stood up, brushing the sand off of herself. She didn't hold anything against him. Because of his upbringing in the happy streets of Hyrule Castle town, in the sheltered walls of the Temple… perhaps it was condescending of her to think so, but he hardly knew anything.

"Nobody is born with a purpose."

But he simply smiled that gentle smile and took no offense to her arrogance as she turned to leave.

"Thank you for listening. Sleep well, Chiyo."

_end of part ten._

- o -

_It's been a while since I wrote here, huh?_

_Sorry that updates have been so sporadic… thank you to everyone who's stuck with me. I've been waiting to write these last few chapters… Ruca is a character I've been looking forward to introduce for a while! So it's great to have finally gotten here. (Although the astute reader may remember that he was alluded to in a previous chapter…) But I'm glad to get away from the stuffy gerudo fortress life to write about life in the wilderness hehe :D _

_Only a few chapters left! _


	11. Chiyo

_**Din's Blessing**_

by eolianstar

Zelda: Ocarina of Time © Nintendo

Rated for suggestive themes

_P a r t . e l e v e n : Chiyo_

It was remarkable how, in the desert, each of the days blurred together with the next. There were no seasons, only wind and sand and crystal clear blue skies. Only the obvious yet gradual changes could prove the passage of time. Like Azhaer starting to walk and speak, or Chiyo's hair growing long. Ruca… Ruca was always the same, always so frank and transparent. Perhaps that added to the comfort of their lives.

She caught onto the routine of things, and even learned all the ways to make herself useful. In the morning she prepared the troughs and made breakfast during the time Ruca went to take the herd to graze before sunrise. Once a month Ruca went by himself to the trader's caravan, or even to the cities, to gain supplies and catch up on news from the outside world. Azhaer and Chiyo very rarely left the camp by the well, hidden away from both physical and magical sight. The stones with the sun emblems that circled the camp ensured this. They were safe here.

In the evening, Ruca told his stories and sang songs with his low, husky voice. Sometimes he showed Azhaer some of the magic tricks he knew from when he trained at the Temple of Time, as it seemed he knew a little magic. But it was so different from the magic of the Twinrova witches or of the King; most of the time there were just little spells that looked like small balls of lights that he bounced in his hands. But his songs were the most striking, as if each note of every hymn contained a mysterious power. She often saw as he sung to himself in the early morning, during his prayers, or to the sheep in those jovial tunes.

Day-by-day Azhaer began to look more and more like him. His face shone like a burnished bronze and his eyes held that strange gaze that seemed to see more than what physical appearances could show. His brow was well arched and smooth. But when he was old enough for his personality to show through, he was a quiet, obedient child who was overly eager to please her. Chiyo was often quick with him, feeling strangely more and more distant as his resemblance to his father became more apparent. Ruca was more a father to him than she was his mother, with that loud laugh and those protective, big hands. The boy loved the animals too, and so when Ruca brought home a ebony colored kitten from the traders, he was over himself with joy.

"You spoil him too much," Chiyo said as she and Ruca watched from the entrance of the tent as the young boy and the tiny kitten played with a piece of string on the rug. Ruca merely chuckled.

"I think with the simple life we live, we can afford to give him some luxuries. And also the desert mice have been helping themselves to our reserves again, so it would be useful to have cat around."

"Mother, look!" Azhaer exclaimed as the kitten batted wildly at the string dangling from his hand.

"Yes, I see," Chiyo said impatiently. But he laughed, and she found that his laughter still had that effect of stopping her in her tracks.

"What a special child," Ruca said, as if to himself.

- o -

And Chiyo continued to have that dream, the one she had begun to dream as a young gerudo guard. Of that man dressed in white linen, gazing forlornly up the walls of the fortress. Sometimes she was close to him, or sometimes far off, but she could never see his face, although he seemed to her so sad…

Sometimes she still dreamed about him too, in his black armor, casting that long shadow over her. But he was never as close to her as he had been in her dreams when she was still at the fortress, as if even in her subconscious, Ruca's stones kept her enemies at bay. When she awoke, Chiyo sometimes wondered if the gerudo were still searching for her, and for Azhaer. She wondered if he were looking for her, or if he were angry that she had escaped him, with a similar anger to the one on the night of Azhaer's birthday…

And when she tried to think about whether she still hated him, all she was left with was a confused and empty feeling.

Perhaps a little after Azhaer's turned three, Ruca came back from the trader's with his donkey saddled with supplies, but his face was hard. Azhaer had been watching the cucco chicks (holding tightly onto Night, the black cat, who was eyeing the chicks greedily) as Chiyo was gathering eggs. As she straightened and saw that the donkey and master had returned, his expression was the first thing she noticed. It was impossible not to notice.

"What is it?"

Ruca tied the donkey to the fencing and thoughtfully leaned against the saddle, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"War has been declared in Hyrule. There was a prophecy once, long ago, about the Golden Realm and the Triforce that gave its bearer the power to rule all the nations. There has been rumors that the Gate has been found, and all of Hyrule is fighting for that power."

It meant very little to her. But since it was regarding Ruca's homeland, she knew it was very important to him. Her face failed to change, ever after hearing his next words.

"But what is also disturbing to me," he continued, "is that the King of Hyrule has allied himself with Ganondorf."

"What do you mean?"

"The gerudo will be assisting the King of Hyrule in this civil war. But for the King to trust in this man… it is unfathomable. There has been rumors that he is a user of the black arts. I don't doubt it, these days, I can feel something sinister in this desert… it has to be him…"

And from that day on, she noticed how Ruca would pray longer than usual in the mornings. He was always anxious for news and sometimes tried to find excuses as to find the traders or go into the city earlier than normal.

But she closed her heart to these things. She did not think of the fortress, nor did she wonder who was the second-in-command to lead her former friends and colleagues into battle alongside their King. Perhaps some of them would die in the battle. It mattered not to her anymore.

- o -

Sometimes Chiyo wondered if Ruca wished he could go back to his people. She could clearly see how it distressed him to be idly remaining in the desert, as the war, in theory, was going on in his home country. But it was very inconsequential in their camp, indeed it was easy to forget that an outside world even existed at times. She wondered sometimes why Ruca never decided to leave and go back. There was nothing for him in the desert, only dumb sheep and a few cuccos to his name.

She came into the tent after washing clothes and found Ruca sitting by his desk, his head in his hands. There was a cloud of despair hanging very clearly around him, even she had the discernment to tell that much. But without saying anything, she sat on the very other side of the tent and began to fold clothes.

"Chiyo," Ruca said, his voice muffled, and she bristled, but didn't say anything. He never waited for her verbal affirmation, which was good because she would never give it anyway. "Do you have dreams or visions, sometimes, of things that seem so real that you can't do anything but believe that they are?"

To this, she said absolutely nothing, because she herself was unsure about her own reality.

He lifted his face out of his hands, and his countenance was troubled. And haltingly he told her of his dreams, the visions of the war and perhaps even another darkness to come, in a prophetic voice, in detail. At one point she even stopped folding to devote all her attention to listening to him. As always he was a storyteller, but the details were so real that indeed, even she found herself thinking that he was telling her something that had happened, or perhaps was happening, or even perhaps was going to happen. A divided kingdom, a bloody battle, a fleeing, dying mother and her abandoned child. And the darkness… it felt so strangely familiar.

"War was never meant to happen," Ruca ended, and lay down on his back in his sleeping space, his hand over his eyes. "The goddesses never meant for this to happen, for the Triforce to be a trophy of all this bloodshed and violence..."

And she said nothing, though she often made some bitter comment to any mentioning of the divine… by now he surely knew of her atheism. But she let it go, and he drifted into sleep. Then she merely allowed herself to get lost in the brainless routine of doing the laundry to escape once again.

- o -

"Mother! Mother, wake up!"

Chiyo woke to Azhaer's excited whisper as he shook her shoulder with both of his hands. When she was conscious enough to hear it, she registered the sound… it was like a rhythm, but not on a beat, and it surrounded them completely. It was faint at first, but then unmistakable as she sat up.

"What…"

Azhaer tugged on her timidly.

"Ruca says to come outside! Water is falling from the _sky_."

She got to her feet and put a woolen shawl over herself.

Outside, Ruca was standing in the shower as the sheep bleated all around him. He looked like a dark figure in the storm, his arms stretched out. The fire was a pile of blackened wood that smoldered and released a thin ribbon of smoke.

She had seen rain before, at the fortress. It was rare, but when it did happen, it fell like speckles upon the skin, the drops so tiny that one could barely feel it. The desert was so hot and dry that often the rain evaporated before it even hit the earth. This was entirely different.

It was like a curtain, as if a sheen of water had been drawn down to touch the earth. The sand sloshed about and was grey and gritty beneath her bare feet, and she felt so cold as the water soaked her completely through… but strangely the sensation reminded her that she was so astonishingly alive. Azhaer laughed his laugh and spun around, a tiny little boy glinting in the grungy downpour. Ruca turned and laughed too, the water streaming from his hair and beard.

"Isn't it magnificent?" he shouted over the din, his hands raised to catch the drops in his palms. "Can you believe it?" But she didn't answer, not out of the reluctance to share her thoughts, which usually her silence was attributed to, but out of the sheer wonder of the moment.

A few minutes later, the three of them found themselves back in the tent, drying off and making sure that everything in the tent stayed dry too. Night hid under the desk and refused to come out no matter how much Azhaer assured the cat it was safe. Ruca used some sort of magic to keep the water from soaking inside, and Azhaer jumped and waited at the tent entrance, watching the spectacle outside.

"They say it only rains like this once a century," Ruca said as he brushed off the drops from his hair. "But the best is yet to come." And the two of them sat down at the entrance to the tent, staring longingly outside, strangely unable to fall asleep. They watched until the boy fell asleep in between them. It must have been around midnight by then.

"It's beautiful," Chiyo said. Perhaps it was the most personal thing she had ever said to the half-gerudo shepherd.

"That it is," he said back, his voice hushed and curved so that she could tell he was smiling. "It somehow makes you think that the world is all right, doesn't it?"

She wouldn't ever admit it in front of him, but it did. Even for only a moment.

"It's remarkable that something like this happens only once in a hundred years. It's truly a miracle."

Something tugged at her heart, and suddenly Azhaer felt like such a weight as his sleeping form leaned against her as he slept.

"If the gods demand such a terrible price for a miracle, perhaps miracles should never happen." The words left her mouth without her thinking in a low voice.

Ruca looked sharply at her then, a strange light in those sapphire eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Chiyo was not talking about the rain.

"Oh." The two of them glanced at Azhaer who was rubbing his eyes with one hand and pointing with the other outside. "The water… stopped…"

The sky was remarkably clear when they stepped outside. Once again they were able to see the billions of stars that the desert sky always put on like a cloak. Ruca hoisted the now wide-awake Azhaer on his shoulders and beckoned Chiyo to follow.

"Come, let's go see if it's true."

"What?" Chiyo asked, tired. But he went along, stepping outside of the camp, outside the circle of safety stones. With a deep breath, she followed after him.

They followed the dipping landscape, the sand still wet and sticking to their feet as they walked along. It was a tiring walk because they had little traction in each step, but Ruca kept descending the dunes, rounding the corner of rocky terrain and natural edifices.

After a while, when her legs were aching and she was tired of hearing Azhaer and Ruca laughing, she crossed her arms.

"How much longer is it?" she asked irritably. They passed around the corner of a cliff that loomed tall above them.

And then she stared down at the sky at her feet.

The light from the stars glowed off of the pool and reflected off their clothes and skin. For perhaps a hundred feet all the way across, the black water was so still that it was a perfect mirror of the heavens above. On this moonless night, it looked as though the perfectly smooth surface of the pool was studded with tiny pearls.

If this were not enough, all a long the other bank were thousands of cream colored flowers. _Thousands._

Ruca let Azhaer down on the ground, and the child ran with his arms stretched out, shouting and laughing towards the bank of flowers. The shepherd glanced over at Chiyo, and seemed to take pleasure in the expression written on her face.

"What are they?"

"It's a flowering plant that lives under the sand. When it rains like this, the buds are exposed from being buried underground. Then, they soak up so much water that they blossom. They'll dry up and die once the sun gets hot again… but they live their whole lives for this one moment, when they can at last see the stars. It's a sad story, isn't it?"

"What are they called?" she found herself asking. But very unlike himself, he didn't answer her.  
The flowers had pointed petals and were the size of Chiyo's fist. They were pale and had pinkish speckles towards the center where a three or four stamens curled out. They didn't have a scent, so all around them they could still smell the rain. That seemed right.

"Mother," Azhaer said, pressing one of the blossoms in his hand against her dress, waiting for her to take it. "It's for you."

She took it wordlessly, and then looked down at the mirror on the ground.

So somewhat arbitrarily, she leaned over the waters, the flower in both of her hands.

And she gently released it onto the glassy surface, which rippled beneath the pearly petals. As she watched the lonely flower float softly in the sky all around it, Aru felt that perhaps the flower's story wasn't so sad after all.

Azhaer didn't seem upset that his gift to her had been given away like this. Instead, he gave a joyful cry and began to pick more of the flowers, to free them like small sailboats into the heavens as she had done.

"You reminded me of these flowers, though I never knew until now if they were real," Ruca's voice said behind her as she watched Azhaer busily carrying out his duty. With a start, she gazed between the flowers floating in the water and caught sight of her own reflection. A tired-looking woman with a tasseled shawl was there, her red hair falling in a long, limp braid over her shoulder. Then, she touched her face and looked at the flowers, and then at herself, her eyes lighting up as if she realized something.

And Ruca took that moment to answer her previous question.

"The chiyo flower. It means 'the hundred-year dream.'"

And she laughed for the first time in years. A short, dry laugh, but it didn't taste bitter.

"You meddling old man."

_end of part eleven._

- o -

_Symbolism and extended metaphor ftw. _

_Anyways! To close I want to mention that there are only two chapters left. Originally there was only one more left, but I felt the pacing wasn't right… actually, it still might not be right even with the additional chapter buffer BD _

_So please enjoy the rest! The final chapter will actually include something extra, just to thank all of you for bearing with me. So stay tuned! And please drop by a note if you've been reading! It always encourages me much more when I know there are people still out there. _

_Over and out!_


	12. Amie

_**Din's Blessing**_

by eolianstar

Zelda: Ocarina of Time © Nintendo

Rated for suggestive themes

_P a r t . t w e l v e: Amie_

A few days after the hundred-year rains, there was news that the Hyrulian Civil War had ended. With the country united, new alliances were forged. The King of the Gerudo and the King of the Zoras pledged their allegiances to the Hylian King, and peace was established at last.

At least, according the news that Ruca brought back with him after his routine visitation to the cities. Whether the war was still raging on or whether it was finally settled, it made no difference to their quiet life in the desert. The desert was always dry, always hungry in its timelessness. The landscape around them shifted, and sometimes they moved the camp when conditions forced them to, but strangely enough Chiyo was never quite unhappy with the boring life. Perhaps being with Ruca, listening to his stories and feeling the safety of his assurance and confidence was to her, far superior to her miserable life at the fortress. It was never an idle life, because to survive in these harsh conditions, sweat and work were necessary.

Chiyo's cold temper toward Ruca warmed up every so slightly over the years. She knew that years had been going by, because Azhaer was growing quickly. He was a skinny boy, his eyelashes long and hair curling, and he was far more affectionate than any gerudo - man or woman - who had ever lived. That was most certainly Ruca's fault. But Chiyo didn't mind. Perhaps Azhaer was just as much Ruca's son as he was hers. But he was definitely _his _son… the resemblance was uncanny now, and yet there couldn't have been a more contrasting personality.

When he was old enough, Azhaer helped with shepherding the sheep and performed the household chores without complaining. He was the life of the camp, constantly finding new things, running about with the black cat in his wake. Ruca was no longer the lonely voice at nighttime, for the boy too, would join the shepherd in his singing, laughing and clapping his hands as if he heard a sound more full than she did.

And he did.

- o -

On Azhaer's seventh birthday, Ruca brought from the traders a short scimitar with a jeweled pommel. He presented it to the boy wrapped in a burlap bag, but the blade had not been sharpened so as to be an appropriate gift considering the recipient's age. Chiyo had not been observing closely at that time, as Night had once again gotten into the cucco pen and were terrorizing the birds. By the time she got back, holding the guilty cat by the skin of his neck, Azhaer was gazing into his reflection in the metal, and Chiyo recognized the designs at just the moment Ruca was speaking to him.

"It is a craft of the Gerudo, your people."

"My people…" Azhaer raised the scimitar, and she could see the Gerudo mark engraved on the hilt above the jewel. She dropped Night without thinking, and the creature darted away into the darkness.

The last time Ruca had breached the topic of the Gerudo had been the first time she had met him, the morning after Azhaer's first birthday as she was fleeing the fortress. Since then, he had been faithful to her demand that he not mention it again. Even though he was fully aware of her presence behind him, he continued on fearlessly.

"They are a fearsome people. The finest warriors of Hyrule, the blessed offspring of Din herself. They are all as beautiful as they are deadly, women who can answer the challenge of any man."

"And the men? Are they beautiful too?" Azhaer laughed as he asked this playfully, and Ruca touched his head and laughed.

"They are. But only one boy is born every hundred years. That boy is destined to become the King."

Azhaer looked somewhat confused at this, and he looked with a puzzled expression at his reflection. Chiyo snatched up the scimitar with one hand, and was almost taken aback at how natural the feeling still was. It felt perfectly balanced in her hand, the handle resting too comfortably between her thumb and forefinger.

"Chiyo," Ruca said, but didn't stand. Azhaer simply looked obediently up at his mother, his face ruddy and glowing like burnished gold.

"That's enough. It's time for bed. Go get ready."

"Yes," Azhaer replied dutifully, and did not complain neither about having his present confiscated nor that he had to sleep early on his birthday. He quickly hugged his mother, who received it stiffly, nodded to his surrogate father and disappeared into the tent. Chiyo indicated the Gerudo weapon in her hand.

"What is this?"

"It's a scimitar."

"Don't fool with me," Chiyo said, her tone edging upon hostility. "What are you trying to teach him?"

"Chiyo," Ruca regarded her gravely, remaining steadfastly calm in his seat. "he must know eventually. For the Gerudo to survive, he must go back to them. He is the prince that is to succeed Ganondorf."

For being six years removed from the Gerudo, this notion seemed so foreign and sudden. Chiyo froze up inside.

"He is not."

"Chiyo, listen to what you're saying. Do you mean for him to stay here forever, to merely tend after sheep in this wasteland when his people are dying? To be the last of the Gerudo while neglecting the destiny given to him by the goddesses?"

"We will never go back!" She raised the blade to be in level with the man's eyes. "And I will not tolerate any more talk about goddesses or destiny or of the Gerudo. We have nothing to do with them anymore. I don't care what happens to them."

He matched her gaze, those blue eyes unwavering. Before she realized it and turned around sharply, she knew it was too late, because he had already seen the tears in her eyes. And she hated herself for having become the weak woman that she was.

He stood to comfort her, but she already stomped off, letting the scimitar fall in a clatter against the stones.

- o -

Amie arrived past Ruca's barriers one early afternoon, long after the argument between Chiyo and Ruca had taken place. She was hooded in a gray cloak and carrying a bag slung on her shoulder. She was short, almost a head shorter than Chiyo. Azhaer saw her first. He had been watering the sheep by spilling buckets and buckets of water into the trough when she came.

"My, what a cute little boy. What is your name, child?"

He stood, affixed in her gaze, holding the bucket still dripping in his hands. Then he smiled timidly.

"Azhaer."

"Lovely. Can you find Ruca for me? I came here to see him, you know."

So Azhaer stumbled into the tent where Chiyo and Ruca had been talking, and mid-conversation, they turned to look at him. Their relationship had more or less returned to normal the morning following their fight, and it seemed both were resigned to pretending that it had not occurred. At least, it seemed to be that way.

"There's a person here. She's looking for you, Ruca."

Ruca frowned, and Chiyo knew that he was wondering how that could possibly be.

When the three of them emerged from the tent, she had lowered her hood.

And Chiyo had never seen anyone so… _cute_. She seemed younger than herself (though later, she found out that she was actually older), with unbound hair that fell in small waves that were the exact color of wheat. Her eyes were enormous and lavender colored, shining as if a thin film of glass covered each of her irises, while her skin was as fair as the inside of an apple.

"Ruca!" she exclaimed when Ruca came up behind Chiyo. "Well? Aren't you going to congratulate me for finding you at last?"

Chiyo glanced sharply at the half-gerudo shepherd, whose mouth spread into a bristled grin. The girl threw herself towards him, flinging out her arms and he caught her in his large hands.

"Amie! Indeed! How did you manage to do it? But how you've grown!"

Azhaer, somewhat overwhelmed and alienated by this unfamiliar situation, came to his mother's side and clung onto the folds of her clothes. She merely placed a hand on his head and watched calmly on. Amie smiled mischievously, her finger toying with the pull string of her cloak.

"I have my ways of knowing. And certainly you've been keeping yourself busy… I didn't realize that when you said that you were going on a journey to discover yourself, you would go off and get settled down."

Ruca looked at her quizzically, and she put both hands on her hips impatiently.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce me?"

Chiyo frowned at this, and Azhaer laughed at Amie's dramatic movements. His laughter did not fail to have its effect even on a complete stranger, and the corner of her lips twisted upward. A light of realization came upon Ruca's face, and he waved his hands in a dismissive gesture.

"Oh, I see what you mean. No, no, that's not what it is. Chiyo is…" He paused at this, and the gerudo herself realized that there was not really a good word to define their relationship. After a slight hesitation, Ruca continued. "She and her son are under my protection here."

Amie then turned to look at the mother and child curiously, not choosing to say anything to this clumsy introduction.

"Is that so… Well then, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Amie. I used to serve the Temple of Time during the period Ruca was priest there."

"Used to?"

"Yes, I've been serving the Royal Family for a few years now. Which is partly why I wanted to find you. I have… ah… some confessions and some news."

"I don't think I'm qualified to accept your confessions anymore," Ruca said in good humor, but she shook her head firmly.

"I thought that maybe you would want to know, because it involves the King of the Gerudo."

At this, Amie's face hardened, and Chiyo could feel the weight of Ruca's eyes upon her.

"I don't trust those old men at the Temple of Time anymore. You were right to leave, Ruca. But I trust you, and your gift of foresight. Goddesses… somehow I knew I had to find you. Somehow, you could make all this right."

Suddenly, the three tent-dwellers realized that this was weightier than just a simple impulse visit. Ruca addressed Chiyo apologetically.

"Apologies Chiyo, but do you mind?"

She impassively touched Azhaer's hair in her hands.

"I'll be preparing dinner." Azhaer raised his head so he could see her face, his chin buried in her sash as he leaned into her. Ruca thanked her and he and Amie excused themselves to talk inside the tent. Chiyo retrieved a cleaver and went to kill one of the sheep for their meal. Azhaer trailed behind.

"It's a pretty lady, mother!"

And with that simple sentence, she recognized the excitement in his voice, and was struck with the sudden realization that she and Ruca were the only other people Azhaer had ever seen; or, at the least they were the only ones that existed in the eight or so years of his memory. Outside of this camp, did he have any understanding at all what the world was like? Even though the answer would obviously have had to have been no, Chiyo wasn't so sure.

Little did she know that Amie's arrival not only heralded a single anomaly in Azhaer's life, but it would also provide force necessary to redirect his future.

- o -

Chiyo realized a complete difference in Ruca's demeanor. It was something like his moodiness during the time of the Civil War, but more thoughtful rather than troubled. Amie, rather, was unchanged after their discourse, and she played with Azhaer and was so sweet to him with her bird-like voice and cute mannerisms. She knew more magic tricks, which were flashier than even Ruca's, her ringed fingers dancing in the air as they traced out floating pictures. She showed him what the different animals all over Hyrule looked like and laughed with him as he pointed and touched the lights.

The lamb Chiyo had prepared was tender and dressed with figs and desert nuts. It was Ruca's favorite dish, but he seemed too occupied thinking that he took an absurdly long time to eat. He was still hardly halfway done by the time Amie and Azhaer finished and got up from the table to do their magic tricks. Chiyo tended the fire and sat next to Ruca, watching them play, feeling a myriad of things, but lacking all the right words to describe them.

"What did she tell you about him?" It was perhaps the first time she had ever chosen to initiate conversation with him. But instead of being enthralled by this momentous occasion, he stared into the fire, his fingers curled over his mouth.

"Amie overheard the young princess of Hyrule tell her nursemaid about a dream that she had. She was eavesdropping through the laundry chute… She had been hoping for some sort of hearsay she could sell in the street… it was a miracle she wasn't caught."

"And the dream?"

"The image of darkness overcoming Hyrule, much more sinister and dark than the previous war. It was obviously him, the princess told her nurse. But no sooner had she mentioned the darkness did she speak of a light that pierced through it, to emerge victorious over the shadows that overtook Hyrule."

"You Hylians love speaking in riddles," Chiyo said expressionlessly.

"I'm not sure what Ganondorf plans to do. But if the princess has a prophetic gift, then it means that his demise is nigh."

She saw him in her mind, proud and tall and handsome, in that impressive black armor, in all the gerudo regality. Despite herself, she wondered what he was doing at that moment, and what he looked like now that so many years had passed.

"So he will die," she said, as cautiously as if in a whisper. Although the rational side of her mind told her that she ought to be skeptical about what she had just heard, something like fear seized her and confused her.

"Do you understand, Chiyo? It is happening sooner than you might dare to believe."

"I…"

She got up then, and wrapped her cloak more tightly about her. Amie and Azhaer both looked up from their brightly colored distractions as she passed by them, her face colder than a desert night. She left the warm circle of light the fire provided and stalked past the pen of sleeping sheep. She heard Ruca call after her, and even get up. At this she broke into a run down the sandy slope, away from the safety and familiarity of the camp, into the desert.

The moon was a tiny sliver that night, and provided barely enough light for her to navigate. She could feel the blood in her ears as she ran. Along the way her shawl was so much of a deterrence that she allowed it to fall away from her shoulders and she left it behind.

The confusion was so foreign and yet so similar. It was like despair, and yet so akin to the feeling of being lost that she had no idea what to make of herself. It was like the anger towards Ruca on the day of Azhaer's seventh birthday, and also like the day she fled the fortress, hoping that the desert would claim her life. It reminded her of the morning she woke up in the King's chambers, feeling stolen and empty. The hatred still burned in her heart, because she then realized that he had no only stolen her maidenhood, but her very self in that very sordid violation.

Yet it was not that. That was not the reason why she felt so lost.

Because in that moment Ruca revealed to her the preordained death of the man she both despised and was doomed to adore, she realized that he was attempting to take yet one more thing away from her. The one thing she had perhaps grown to fully love…

Those sad eyes in the storm, that wonderful laugh…

It was too dark, and her sandaled foot caught a raised edge of the uneven ground. She cried out and managed to catch herself on her palms. When she eased herself to a sitting position, she could feel that her hands were wet with blood.

"Chiyo…" The shepherd had caught up to her. She could hear his voice in each of his deeply drawn in breaths. "Chiyo…"

"Don't call me that anymore!" she snapped, with still a little hatred in her to be exhibited as anger. "You were wrong. It's not my name. It never was."  
"Please listen to me," he continued, coming closer. "I know that there is nothing I can say to cover over the wrongs committed against you by your King and your people. But you and Azhaer have been chosen for a divine calling - what was done to harm you has been meant for a more eternal purpose, don't you see? The gods have given you this chance to save your people! You are the pride of your people!"  
"You fool!" she hissed at him, and got to her feet. They were close enough to touch at this point. "How many times must I tell you? There is no destiny! There are no gods! You think yourself a seeker of wisdom, but you don't even know the truth!"  
She pointed wildly in the general direction towards the fortress, her eyes ablaze even in that darkness.

"Do you want to know the truth? The lie of your hundred year dream? I saw it myself! The stories had us believe that it was the goddesses' blessing, the promise of a man every century." Her voice lowered to a dangerously tense whisper. "But it was all a lie. When I climbed the hills over the fortress, I saw myself the secret of the gerudo."

She paused here, but Ruca said nothing and made no reaction. Patiently, he waited for her to continue.

"Thousands of corpses under the desert sun, picked at by the desert birds, left to rot forever as a testimony against the gods. Thousands of baby boys that were killed so that forever the gerudo would live in bondage to a single myth. So that we would be reduced to lying with our own half-brother, our own father in this disgusting play of power. Those are your gods, priest. This is the pride of my people."

And she remembered the sight of them. The half-eaten entrails and bleached infant skeletons. The terrible stench of it, the hot afternoon son. She saw at last what Jannu had seen, what the witches had hidden for centuries. The gerudo had the blood of the innocent on their hands.

"I will never go back," she continued, when all she could feel from Ruca was an immense sadness. "My son will have nothing to do with them. If the gerudo die, it will be a mercy."


	13. Din

_Author's Notes_

Yay! Finallyyy… after _years_, the end of this story. Thank you for bearing through it with me. Because of the inconsistency and time discrepancies between updates, I understand that this story has been all over the place in terms of chapter content/length… my style has changed a lot over the years, so everything's a huge mess, but I'm glad the story has finally been told.

If you've been reading along, I would love to hear your feedback and thoughts! This is a pretty momentous occasion for me, and it'd be so rewarding to know that other people have somewhat enjoyed my work. I'm also posting this story on my live journal, and I'll also put up a picture I drew once it catches up. The link will be on my profile.

Thank you again and again! Godspeed and onward!

- o -

_The old woman lay on her deathbed, her lips camouflaged by the wrinkles around her mouth, which was a stretched thin line from which she breathed. _

_ As she lay with her eyes closed, her hands folded over her stomach, she tried to imagine what he might look like. Ruddy and confident like his father, or perhaps strong-willed and intense as his mother. It was so many years since she saw them last- many, many years._

_ She had dearly hoped to see him, to live long enough to see the return of her beloved King. But instead, she had only seen the exile of a King._

_ But she had no regrets. She was not afraid to die. Not Jannu._

_ Nobody in the fortress realized that she was dying. The Gerudo were in uproar, and had been in uproar since the exile. Even the esteemed Lone Wolf Thief, as esteemed as she was, had no answer as to how they were to live._

_ Because if he did not return, Jannu's death would be the minor one. _

_**Din's Blessing**_

by eolianstar

Zelda: Ocarina of Time © Nintendo

Rated for suggestive themes

_P a r t . t h i r t e e n: Din_

When Azhaer burst into the tent and interrupted her morning routine, she knew something was very wrong. He and Ruca had left earlier that morning to find pasture for the sheep, so she had expected that she would have the camp to herself for the better part of the day.

Her son was out of breath and a sheen of sweat illuminated his cheek and shoulder. He was wearing his woolen shift, but his scarf was missing.

"Mother!" His eyes shone as if they were just about ready to break forth with tears. When she looked him down she saw that his sandals were torn, as if he had laboriously run against unfavorable terrain. When she got up and came forward for a closer look, she noticed that his feet were scratched and bleeding.

"What is it, Azhaer? Why are you back so soon?"

"We were attacked!" he managed to get through his breaths, and the tears slowly streamed down his face. "Please, we have to go help Ruca. I- I would have stayed with him, but he made me swear to come back and make sure you were all right -"

"Attacked?" Her eyes flashed and she threw forward her arms to catch the boy by the shoulders. "Azhaer, who was it?"

"Please, mother, we must hurry! I'm so afraid for Ruca!"

Without further prodding she nodded and went her corner of the tent. It didn't take long to sort through her few possessions and produce a sheathed saber. Azhaer's big eyes widened, and she touched his shoulder on the way out.

"We'll take the horse," she said calmly though in truth, she was afraid too.

- o -

When they rode through the wilderness, they saw some of the sheep scattered along the terrain. Completely dumb and oblivious to whatever harm and befallen their other companions, they chewed the dry vegetation that clumped against the slopes. The closer they came to the site of the incident, the more obvious it became that there was an attack.

In the pasture they found the white woolen lumps slumped in crimson. She felt Azhaer's arms tighten around her as they scanned the field, desperately glancing through the dead sheep for any signs. All along the ground there were prints in the ground - horses, many of them, as well as tracks from the herd. It seemed like with an exception of the ones that had wandered off or were accidentally killed in the chaos, the rest were driven away.

It was a common practice, she thought, even allowing her mind in a moment like this to touch upon the memory of the Thieves' raids. Whatever livestock that was available to steal, the raiders rounded into a herd and drove back to the fortress as long as it was convenient.

But it was precisely because of her memory of the raids that she anxiously searched the ground, her heart thudding within her like a drum of ever increasing rhythm. She was stuck between anger and guilt, but most suffocating of all was that fear. She knew that it was not a usual practice to leave survivors unharmed.

Azhaer saw him first, and with a cry he clumsily dismounted and ran. His mother, however, remained frozen in the saddle, a familiar fear gripping her heart. In that moment of panic she quickly repented of her past, of all the deaths by her hand. She tightened her grasp on the reins so tightly that her knuckles whitened,

_Chiyo…_

And in that moment she repented for worse, for not returning his concern, his gentleness and compassion…

She slid off of the horse and ran to his side where Azhaer was already weeping and calling the shepherd's name frantically. There was a great gash in his lower chest and stomach, and blood was already making the fabric of his clothing brittle. She thoughtlessly pushed the boy out of the way and leaned over the injured man, pulling aside his cloak, raising his head with her trembling hands.

He was breathing shallowly, and he groaned with the pain, being in the very last snatches of consciousness.

"Oh gods," she allowed herself to say, her hands still trembling uncontrollably. "He's alive. Quickly Azhaer, bring the horse and help me lift him-quickly!"

- o -

The wound was not very deep, but it had landed in a sensitive area. Miserably she imagined a scimitar's stroke from a warrior on horseback, how easy and slick the single movement would be.

When they lay him comfortably back at the tent, he was already unconscious. Before moving him, she had torn the edge of her dress into strips to bind the wound tightly. He had already bled through them during the ride, and when she peeled off his clothes to reexamine the wound, everything was wet and tainted scarlet.

Azhaer was strangely quiet, the tears silently pooling and falling from his long eyelashes. He sat at Ruca's side without moving the whole time. Even as Night came and rubbed against the boy's side, he absently pet the cat out of habit. But the usual glow in his eyes had been put out.

She prepared a poultice and applied it as she had seen Ruca do for the sheep that survived coyote attacks. Her rough hands continued to shake as the herbs merely dampened with the blood. Without knowing what else to do, she bound the wound many times around and pulled their best blanket over him.

- o -

When he woke the next day, he was feverish. From then on he drifted in and out of consciousness, bearing with him painful smiles and few words. Azhaer rounded up the stray sheep so that they still had some milk from which they could make cheese. In the end, however, she bartered what remained of the flock to the traders for more costly medicine. As a result, all they had could eat were cucco eggs and what little bits of food and spices they had saved.

A few days after the attack, when she attempted to redress the wound and replace the bandage with a new one, she noticed that the flesh around the clotted blood was inflamed and tender. Even touching it in the slightest set Ruca off and caused the most horrid contortion in his face. It was a week after that when the wound began to smell bad.

Azhaer cried whenever he watched her clean the bandages. He often looked frustrated with himself and was strangely quiet. He never really laughed anymore, which was the most disturbing. The camp was always quiet, and her hands always trembled as she worked.

During another night of eating bland oats with boiled eggs, she saw that Azhaer was silently weeping to himself.

"I miss the singing," he said after a little while, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Despite herself she stole a look at Ruca's sleeping form on the other side of the tent, and the ache deepened as she realized that she did too.

- o -

After Azhaer fell asleep, the Gerudo woman remained awake and still beside him, her hand on her boy's head. The child curled around the black ball that was his cat, the expression on his face troubled. When she got up, she went to go close the flap over the tent entrance, and saw Ruca's eyes glisten as they peered back at her.

"You're awake," she said, and sat down beside him. He lay on his side, and by the moonlight from the entrance, she could see that he was so pale. He smiled weakly at her and shivered. He was remarkably lucid; the most lucid he had been ever since the attack. But his voice was so low and raspy that he was no the strong, reliable Ruca she had always known. It alarmed her to see him this way, more than she ever thought was possible.

"It's a cold night."

It wasn't. The sun had gone down only a few hours ago so that the desert sands still retained their warmth.

She paused there, her unbraided hair loose and wild around her shoulders, her golden eyes gleaming in the dark. She felt so old and conflicted, her hand curled over her chest where the ends of her shawl met. Then slowly she reached out and lifted his blanket, unfolded her legs and slipped under them, careful not to disturb his wound.

Everything felt hazy and dreamy at that moment, like in her dreams. She could feel his breath on her face, her forehead just at the level of his chin as she curled closer to him, so that they just touched. The infection in his body was giving him an unnatural chill.

"May I?" he asked as he began to reach his arms. She nodded and felt the bristle of his beard against her brow. As he put his arms around her and drew her closer, their upper bodies fit snugly. It was a slightly uncomfortable position, and surely it hurt him, but as his shuddering stilled ever so slightly, she could not think anything fit any more perfectly.

And very slowly she put her arms around him too, her hands stretched over his shoulders, spreading her warmth on the frigid surface of his skin. They lay there for a moment with only the sound of their breathing between them breaking the tense silence of the night.

"What have you seen in your dreams, priest?"

She knew that he should rest, but she was also afraid of his silence, as if somehow in the back of her mind she knew that time was short and there was so much for him to tell her. She had seen how he stirred in his sleep, that telltale expression on his face. How often she had seen it during his prayers.

He sighed as if he had been waiting for her to speak at last.

"When I was young," he began, and even in his state his voice assumed all the authority he had as a storyteller. "I wanted… I wanted in essence… a form of salvation. I was always troubled, I never knew peace with myself."

She said nothing when he failed to address her question. She only listened, because she realized that this story was not merely his own.

"To live is a strange thing. To know so much and yet feel so many different things, to wonder about reality, about desire. I never understood, even at the Temple, where the gods are said to live."

And something must have hurt because he sharply took in his breath, and even though he did well to hide it, she could hear the wince he tried to bite back. He attempted to chuckle, to laugh at himself, but his voice was so ragged and strained that she wanted to cry. He tensed under her touch, and she wanted to give him space, but he refused to let go.

"I didn't fully understand until they came and stole our sheep. I saw our people for the first time then, as I had longed to for so long. Women with eyes like the desert moon, hair like a whispering flame as they flew down on their horses with shining swords in their hands. When they came down and struck me, I could see their eyes, and the loss and confusion in those eyes. You know, don't you, Chiyo? He's gone. At last, as prophecy spoke of it years ago, there is no King on the Gerudo throne."

She had nothing to say directly to this. When he fell back into silence, she was afraid that he was going to fall asleep, so whispered urgently back.

"Keep going - don't stop talking."

She was waiting for him to say it. But he didn't yet.

"I found it though. I thought I could define myself with wisdom, with my own self-acceptance, if only I could know where I came from. But Chiyo… when I left Hyrule Castle to come to this desert, I never expected that I would come to love and treasure something so valuable. How I dearly cherished the years here. I was so arrogant and thought that I could save you and Azhaer… but you two, in truth, saved me."

There was a pause after this, and Ruca held her more closely than ever as he was about to say it. Her heart seized up within her as his voice broke with his own emotion. With joy or sorrow, she could not tell, but before the words left his mouth, she already knew.

"I am going to die."

But she was already weeping bitterly, just the same way as Azhaer wept silently. He must have felt the tears with his dry thumbs, because he smeared them against her cheek while desperately kissing her brow with his cracked lips. She was the one who shuddered then, but not with the cold. Ruca, too, seemed to feel the bitterness of that truth as he held her, his lips pressed against her, his words tenderly spoken against her hair.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Aru. I am so sorry…" When he said the name, she knew nothing else sounded more right. There was that little girl who first waited on that hilltop, dreaming of something she never quite understood. And then there was Ruca, dear Ruca with his big hands and heartbreaking vulnerability and unconditional affection…

_Maybe everything I've wanted was always… perhaps all along it was…_

"Ruca, why did this happen?" She said his name for the first time, and she felt him smile wistfully on her forehead as the ache in her chest felt like a void so deep that she could drown inside herself. She could only manage the single word. "Why?"

"So that you would know grace," he said, his voice penetrating her. "So that you would know hatred, and choose to finally break it beneath your feet. So that you can be free. For this, Aru, I would surely die many times over!"

And for the rest of the night she lay between his hands, filled with so much love and hatred that she did not know if she could bear to live any longer.

- o -

In the morning, Azhaer wept again and again and was so upset that he wouldn't eat or even look at food. That sweet boy loved him much, it was so heartrending a sight.

His mother was dried of her tears, but the empty look in her eyes indicated an utter loss that could never be described adequately with words. When her son cried himself to sleep, she left the tent and the camp on her horse, her long hair unbraided and swept back by the wind, her shawl left behind.

- o -

_ It seemed like a lifetime ago when she last stepped foot in those ancient halls. In a dreamy stupor she returned to that place where the goddess sat, her palms upturned, the fangs of her serpentine hood bared. Even now, she was unsure if she was even awake. She wondered if this what it was like for him, if this is how he knew her name and the prophetic things to come. Perhaps he had spoken to the gods themselves, and they had listened._

_ She had no idea how she managed to find it, or how long it took. But she knew there was a greater will that was beckoning her there, and that feeling was more real that the walls she tread between._

_ And as if a divine answer, she saw it there. The enormous golden eagle perched on that palm, looking down on her with omniscient eyes. As if she had expected it, she was not surprised to see it. It was as glorious as the first time she laid eyes on it._

_ "I have a complaint before the gods," Aru announced, her face still red from the ride, her breath a steady pant. "and demand retribution."_

_ The bird gave a shrill cry, just as piercing and powerful as the one it declared over the Fortress on the night the witches had attempted to take Azhaer's life. It spread its wings, which filled the entire room, melting the brick and torchlight of the temple around her into a golden light. Aru gasped as she looked again and saw Her… or what could have been a her. She was tall and Her beauty was neither masculine nor feminine, but She was astoundingly perfect for all the light that came from Her. _

_ She looked more than a mere goddess. Maybe She was a God. _

Speak your complaint,_ She said, Her voice striking as how Azhaer's laugh was striking, but many times over as it pierced through bone and flesh. It echoed in the vastness with all the authority in the world. For a moment Aru felt so utterly mortal that she felt ashamed, naked in all her humanity._

_ When she spoke, it was not with sound, but with anguish, with grief, with fear._

_ "Since the beginning, You have allowed Your children to be slaughtered without intervening. You allowed the corrupt to gain control over Your people under a lie that was said to have been Your blessing. You abandoned me in my moment of greatest need. You took him, the only person in the world who showed me kindness. And now, You demand my son so that the people You seem to despise can live on in this wretched cycle. For all this, yes, I would defy You until the end of time."_

_ There was something like sadness in the eyes of the God, a sadness that Aru could feel, gripping her down like the burden of having to carry all the sorrows of the world._

I loved him as well. He loved you much and he would have died for you- and that he did. He wanted better for you-a Kingdom for the son of the Gerudo.

_ Aru was silent, because she knew with such clarity and tragedy that it was true. _

You think me powerless and remiss to have neglected my creation as wars and hatred fill this world. Man does what he desires, and his hatred causes many to suffer. But do you not know? Those who love will suffer.

_ When the God reached out and touched her, all feeling melted away to something more real._

I understand you. Because I too, know the pain and suffering of a mother.

- o -

In her dream (or perhaps she had her eyes wide open, she wasn't sure anymore), she saw him one last time, that mysterious man standing at the gate of the fortress, looking up. His white linen robe blew wildly in the wind, and there was a strange light that came from him. That curling scarlet hair, that pure soul.

She stood behind him, alone, finally alone, with no longer that shadow of a man behind her. The only shadow that remained was the one projected in her twisted heart. In the light of the young man in white linen in front of her, she felt so frail and old.

_So that you can be free…_

Ruca's words echoed in her head, those haunting words that somehow convinced her again of destiny.

The young man stirred slightly, as if he were about to turn his head to look over his shoulder. But he froze mid-action so that she could only see a part of his cheek and face, though his hair covered his eyes.

"Who are you?" She mouthed the words, as if she had no more strength left to say anything. He turned and looked at her, and she felt a tear escape and drop from her chin.

There was that look in his eyes, those words forming on his lips. She felt a joy welling up in her heart as the tears continued to fall upon the desert sands like the hundred-year rain.

_Thank you… Mother…_

- o -

_ Din smiled as She crowned her beloved prince with all Her majesty and love. He laughed, and he seemed so tall and strong, far more handsome and noble than his father ever had been. His mother was so lovely too, as she took in the sights, the sounds, the freedom…_

My people,_ She declared, and it was a new beginning._

- o -

They stood there together, hand-in-hand, looking up at those same fortress walls, but it was so much more real that in her dreams. He was so small compared to her, his neck wrapped with a lanky black cat, his eyes like a refined gold, looking with new innocence at what was once her old home. His eyes missed nothing, not the rippling of the tattered red banner nor the circling black birds on the cliffs. He surveyed his domain with grace, without prejudice.

And when he laughed, she knew that finally, at long last, the King had returned.


End file.
